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[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | Fear.
It’s something that had molded our species, in many ways dominated it. Yet with it we had grown. Fear of the dark? Fire. Fear of the other? Weapons to conquer them. Fear of fear itself? Peace. The primitive parts of our brains could still give into the old primal fears at times but as a species we had learned to conquer them and we were better for it.
Being feared, that was something new though.
Empathy kept that in check for most humans, if our actions made someone fear us we would try to allay those fears. This was not fear on an individual basis though, but a species wide fear, and I reveled in it at that moment. After five decades of being scientific oddities, treated as liars or imbeciles, to finally see the collective horror on the faces of the congress was a moment of absolute schadenfreude.
It was as if spoiled children and religious zealots had a child, and then kept right on having them until they filled up the galaxy. There really was no other appropriate way to describe it. We had been amazed when we had first discovered, or had been discovered depending on who you asked and what species they belong to, intelligent life in the galaxy. Our primitive exotic matter gravity drives had let us colonize a hundred habitable worlds near earth and we were exploring more, a burgeoning interstellar species. Then one of our ships had found itself orbiting a planet two hundred light years from Earth with another ship, one not build by humans.
The next half century had been an eye opener. The galaxy not only had other intelligent life, but it was positively overflowing with it. Hundreds of sapient species on tens of thousands of worlds. We were greeted warmly, smiling… faces, seeking to learn about us and about our world. We were an oddity to them, living in what was considered a barren, inhospitable section of space though we didn’t understand why they called it that. We learned of their species and their oddly uniform religion worshipping the Caretakers. Worshipping might have been too strong a word, some did with religious fervor that would have made a franciscan monk look like an atheist, others simply spoke of them in reverent tones, but they all spoke of them.
Every single species in the galaxy had some kind of Caretaker, some other species that had lifted them up. A species that had nurtured them, guided them, instructed them, and watched over them. In every case, every species was not the result of natural evolution but of guided development, every, single, one, and these were not mythic gods but actual things, we had met one thirty years after first contact. A floating white orb with a black stripe around it’s center. The Arakoa it was traveling with, one of the first species we had met and a quite friendly bunch of birds, had made introductions, and it had just floated there. This had greatly troubled them, ruffling their quite literal feathers to no end. Other species were with them and interacted with the orb but when confronted with a human it was inert, unresponsive, and when one of it’s feathery brood had finally gotten the courage to ask it why it didn’t talk to our representative it had flatly replied that there was nothing to talk to.
That’s when the trouble began. We had been simple curiosities at first, a species where we shouldn’t be. After the meeting with the Arakoa Caretaker things had gone downhill.
If it were humans confronted with such a problem we would have investigated, tested, searched for an answer, but the species of the galaxies didn’t seem to know how to do any of that. Like a bunch of children they had demanded to speak with our Caretakers and when we replied we had none they would be infuriated and ask again, and again. Those willing to actually talk to their Caretakers asked for and even demanded answers but received the same replies over and over. There were no sapient species in our portion of the galaxy and there couldn’t be any. They would demand to see our histories and textbooks but when given them would toss them away as obvious lies and demand to see our actual history. It was then that we were confronted with the reality of what being cared for in their way entailed.
They had never wanted, everything was given to them by their Caretakers. Fire, tools, the wheel, every technology, every advancement doled out by the floating white spheres. A new disease, the Caretaker would show them how to make and administer a cure. Conflicts mediated and halted. Disagreements smoothed over. They had been uplifted to their present state in a matter of centuries, from the caves to the stars in less time than the Roman Empire lasted. And then they languished, advanced, but without any drive to do anything. Some had been this way for millennia, never advancing, never pushing the boundaries. They had never had to and so they had never learned to so when confronted with our lack of a Caretaker and their own’s inability to spoon feed them answers about us they had no clue how to respond, and consequently flailed about without purpose our guidance.
A toddler throwing a temper tantrum is annoying at worst. A toddler in command of an interstellar starship throwing one is potentially world ending.
Humanity’s hard fought peace meant that we had not militarized space. We weren’t peaceful, we hadn’t given up arms, but when confronted with the vastness of space we had pulled together and agreed to not carry petty grievances to the stars. With more and more races turning hostile it was clear we could no longer avoid it. While they had no concept of war, they were sapient, there was the chance someone could figure it out on their own and we couldn’t take that chance.
A decade ago they had stopped talking to us. Alien ships rarely showed up in our space and when they did no real communication could take place. At best we were ignored and at worst some incoherent screaming about Caretaker-less monsters was all we got.
A month ago one of them figured it out. | The Greys, looked on Earth in wonder, "what would do this to them? What would just abandon them to their own devices without evolving them?"
The Earth was going through changes, through wars and strife, as the Greys watched over time one day it stopped. The Greys had been observing Earth for centuries; they were both good and bad. Sometimes they provided Earth with technology like computers, televisions and phones other times, when they were bored, they abducted people, sliced them and abducted planes from the sky like MH370 just for the fun.
Over time the Greys convened. "The fighting has stopped, this is no longer entertaining, they don't need us and we no longer need them. Time to wipe them out!"
It was just a game to them, all of it. They were eternal through alien technology and we were not Eternal. We suffered and died and they conveniently lived on, they analyzed us to analyze themselves and the only conclusion they drew was they would some day lose consciousness and they would be nothing.
Then slowly as they decided to destroy the Earth, they heard a voice from above say, "we humans are all Gods, and we suffer so much to prepare ourselves to be Gods, this is our training ground, you cannot destroy it." The Greys wriggled in fear, could these be the caretakers coming back for them? Would they be destroyed?
Everything that had called itself a God had died the Greys thought. Everything on Earth that had called itself a God was a mockery of a person. But this was different. This was a clear, voice. Other voices came through to them while they had telepathy humans did not.
"we are Gods and this is our training ground. You hurt us because you love our form and your form is so simple. We know everything about you. We know you were kicked out of your planet by people who looked like us who didn't want to deal with you any longer. You came here because this is the only place you felt couldn't fight back. I tell you, we are the strongest because we were once the weakest. Leave. You will one day be in Heaven among the Gods and you will have our form but you must leave we will guide you when you leave. If not we will annihilate you."
Peace | |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | A: "I tried it again and there's no response to any standard Care drone manufactory pings. I've been trying some of the more exotic ones, but no luck. I mean we've received some communications from the inhabitants but nothing that's a valid response from the drone system."
B: "I thought that those things were nigh indestructible. What about the spare Care manufactories on the nursery planet?"
A: "Can't contact any. They must have been modified to be as stealthy as possible. I do however read some signals from Care units."
B: "Why would anyone risk such a serious breach of protocol."
A: "My friend at the academy once played around with the idea of clean species bootstrapping. He thought that by hacking a freshly-replicated Caretaker drone manufactory one could erase most evolutionary and all culture protocols. Maybe this nursery is one of the navy's black projects."
B: "Well, if it was their hush project, we would've been reduced into stardust a couple of systems ago. Besides that would be against Caretaker rules. You ever lied to your Care?"
A: "No. I could lie to my mom and dad. I've lied to my wife. I will always tell my Care the truth."
B: "I've never liked those corridor L guys but I'm sure even they would not dare lie to their Care either. The inhabitants would also offer no real value to them either. They broke radio silence as soon as we appeared and they don't seem to be very sturdy."
A: "If the rules permitted raising a species of sentient battleships then I'm not sure what's the point with these inhabitants. Why keep them secret?"
B: "Maybe there is some race that has had their Caretaker manufactory protocols corrupted after hundreds of generations of species and..."
A: "Huh? Again? Now this is doesn't make... This one too. They... I don't see that any of the Care drones... There's no programming in them!"
B: "Weird. Maybe these were one of the earlier generations with less failsafes. It might've been a solar flare that fried some or most of the drones. That would explain the state of the planet. With all manufactories down and just a few hundred active drones left, the corruption is apparent on the surface. Just find us a working unit."
A: "I'm trying. All the signals I get are weak and seem to be concentrated on few spots on the planet. They all seem to be deep underground. I don't get a single response from above ground."
B: "The manufactories? I'm sure that some the drones there have some recoverable memory!"
A: "All drones' diagnostics return the same report - a clean slate. Scans show that the drones are not in a manufactory but rather in some kinds of transports."
B: "The manufactories must be on a different planet for a reason or another. We better start scanning other planets. Someone went into great lengths to keep this operation hidden and still abandoned it."
A: "Drones all have their memories intact. No corruption found. They've been in standby mode and waiting programming since they were powered on. Since ... since over a million years ago."
B: "How... Is this some kind of coincidence? We stumbled on one of the first, yet failed nursery on a planet which was used for another nursery which again was started and hastily recovered. Whose idea of a practical joke is this? Something doesn't add up. While I could understand that first generations of Caretaker drones could be imperfect, there's no way anyone could create a sentient species now and force the Caretaker drones to abandon it. Not without a battle. It would get the nursery drones up in arms, it would get their parent species' own Care drones and parent species into war with it. It just would not happen."
A: "Well, what if it didn't happen. Creating a sentient species takes just a few generations and this here seems to have been around a hundred thousand."
B: "But that doesn't explain the dormant drones! There must at least be signs of drones. There should be telltale signs present in all sentient races, all cultures."
A: "What if it all didn't happen?"
B: "You know as well as I do! Sentience is not something that just spontaneously appears! We know how it works! Hell, I've created one too, that's how I got this job. Sentience always requires nursing and that requires sentience! If there's an exception ..."
A: "We have a reply to our manufactory ping! It's coming from the second planet of the system. We also got a reply from the fourth planet. I can't believe this - there's thousands of manufactory responses, but they too have been dormant for ages. There's also identifying data in the response! The creators of these manufactories are ..."
B: "The 0th generation." | The Greys, looked on Earth in wonder, "what would do this to them? What would just abandon them to their own devices without evolving them?"
The Earth was going through changes, through wars and strife, as the Greys watched over time one day it stopped. The Greys had been observing Earth for centuries; they were both good and bad. Sometimes they provided Earth with technology like computers, televisions and phones other times, when they were bored, they abducted people, sliced them and abducted planes from the sky like MH370 just for the fun.
Over time the Greys convened. "The fighting has stopped, this is no longer entertaining, they don't need us and we no longer need them. Time to wipe them out!"
It was just a game to them, all of it. They were eternal through alien technology and we were not Eternal. We suffered and died and they conveniently lived on, they analyzed us to analyze themselves and the only conclusion they drew was they would some day lose consciousness and they would be nothing.
Then slowly as they decided to destroy the Earth, they heard a voice from above say, "we humans are all Gods, and we suffer so much to prepare ourselves to be Gods, this is our training ground, you cannot destroy it." The Greys wriggled in fear, could these be the caretakers coming back for them? Would they be destroyed?
Everything that had called itself a God had died the Greys thought. Everything on Earth that had called itself a God was a mockery of a person. But this was different. This was a clear, voice. Other voices came through to them while they had telepathy humans did not.
"we are Gods and this is our training ground. You hurt us because you love our form and your form is so simple. We know everything about you. We know you were kicked out of your planet by people who looked like us who didn't want to deal with you any longer. You came here because this is the only place you felt couldn't fight back. I tell you, we are the strongest because we were once the weakest. Leave. You will one day be in Heaven among the Gods and you will have our form but you must leave we will guide you when you leave. If not we will annihilate you."
Peace | |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | It was early into the 24th century before humanity made official first contact with the vast galactic civilization that controlled the Milky Way. Of course, they had known ever since the late 22nd century that they were not alone. However, before getting into that, one must know a brief history lesson about how humans reached the stars.
Humans as a species first developed interstellar travel in the late 21st century, specifically in 2065 with the discovery of how to generate exotic matter. With this they were able to construct the first FTL ship powered by the well-known Alcubierre Drive. Using the designs NASA had constructed earlier that century, they built their first warp capable ship, which they named the IXS Enterprise. Their first stop was Alpha Centauri B and its one Earth-sized world in a close orbit of its parent star. They then jumped to Wolf 1061 and discovered to their delight that both the second and third planets hosted complex biospheres and had thick oxygen rich atmospheres suitable for human habitation.
After the discovery, support for the many space exploration organizations around the world exploded. Governments seemed to pour funds into creating colony vessels capable of traveling to these two new worlds with complements of colonists and supplies. Over the next few decades the colony ships took thousands of colonists from Earth to the two new homeworlds of humanity. At first they lived in domes for a while as the air was tested for unknown pathogens, but even seeing the alien lifeforms outside their pristine sealed off villages made them long for the fresh alien air.
After the air was deemed safe the domes came down and they began spreading out over the two worlds. While this was going on, yet another world was discovered to be a potentially habitable world, only this one needed to be terraformed as the oxygen content was too low and the carbon dioxide content was too high. This world orbited the star Epsilon Eridani.
As the Alcubierre Drive was improved upon, more worlds suitable for colonization and/or terraforming were discovered. Humanity soon realized they needed a form of rule to keep the new worlds united. Representatives were brought from each of the worlds, now nine strong if Earth, Venus, Mars and Luna were counted. They debated for months on a good system of government and eventually one man managed to settle on a system, and everyone agreed so well that they decided that the man who suggested it be the leader. Thus the Terran Imperium was born under the rule of the Golden Emperor James I.
Humanity first became aware that they weren’t alone not long after the formation of the Imperium. It all began on April 22, 2179. A scoutship, the Pharaoh’s Cupbearer, was exploring a star system when its sensors detected something unusual, biomatter orbiting one of the outer gas giants. They diverted to explore and discovered what apparently was a carcass of some unusual spaceborn entity. When a more qualified team was brought in, they discovered smaller bodies that obviously belonged to another species altogether. What was the most astonishing was the fact that the larger entity seemed to be entirely capable of FTL travel. They were dated at only 20,000 years old.
With this discovery humanity became excited and at the same time more cautious. The study of the massive FTL beast gave humanity the frequency that they communicated in. When replicated the first receiver almost overloaded with the amount of alien chatter that flowed through. More receivers were built but no transmitters were ever constructed.
Humans discovered that the entire galaxy was populated by multitudes of races that had all banded together and formed something called the Verilex, a large galactic government that controlled the galaxy. The closest race to the Imperium was the Mjir who controlled a section of space called the Mjir’Ghro.
The most alarming thing that humans discovered was an overall theme: each race had help in their evolution and advancement. It appeared that each Caretaker race was different for each Verilex member, however each race had access to what was loosely translated as Star Beasts, creatures similar to the large spaceborn animal carcass.
For the next hundred years humanity kept silent, watching and learning all they could about the Verilex and their races. Finally, at the turn of the 24th century Emperor James III decided that the Imperium was as prepared as they would ever be.
A small delegation was sent to the nearest Verilex world, a small outpost on the edge of Mjir’Ghro space. They broadcast a message of peace and goodwill on behalf of the Imperium. Unfortunately, the Mjir’Ghro had only recently seceded from the Verilex and attacked the Imperium ships. To the surprise of the delegation ships, the Mjir bio-vessels launched what appeared to be giant spores that harmlessly bounced off the metallic skin of the Imperium ships. Despite that the delegation fled back to the nearest Imperium world.
Weeks later, that world was attacked and every human on the planet killed by orbital bombardment of some sort of bioweapon. The Emperor, armed with the new knowledge that the Mjir were no longer Verilex members, officially declared war on them. Many ships were outfitted with powerful railguns, lasers and orbital nuclear devices.
The second battle took place above the same world the Imperium peace delegation ships had visited. The Mjir vessels were easily blasted apart and burned by the railguns and laser weapons, and then the inhabited parts were glassed with tactical nuclear strikes. The world fell with hardly any effort.
Humanity discovered much more from the bio-databases on this world. The Verilex, while having superior bio-technology, was severely lacking in other areas of technology. They didn’t even know the atomic theory. The Imperium once more tried to sue for peace, but they were ignored.
The third world to be attacked was the Imperium’s first extrasolar colony world, only this one was well defended and the ships were defeated within a mere few hours. Having had enough, the Emperor launched a full scale invasion of the Mjir’Ghro, systematically glassing planets with ease but sparing civilians, who were moved to an inhabitable prison planet where they could be free but lose access to space travel due to the high radiation of a nearby black hole which the Star Beasts couldn’t protect against. Finally all that remained was the Mjir homeworld. The Imperium asked for their surrender but the Mjir launched their most advanced bio-bombs which were promptly shot down. The glassing of the planet began minutes after until only one city remained.
At this point, over a hundred larger Star Beasts appeared and began broadcasting a demand for a cease fire. They identified themselves as the Avan, and they claimed to be the Mjir Caretaker race. The Imperium warships immediately ceased fire and powered down all weapons. Avan ships headed to the surface to collect the remaining Mjir.
Without waiting, the warships retreated back to Imperium space. Months passed before what appeared to be a Verilex convoy asked permission to cross the border. The Verilex delegates apologized profusely for the actions of the Mjir and as a sign of good faith granted humanity all of the former Mjir’Ghro space. Official dialogue between the Verilex and Imperium was opened.
That was where a major problem arose. They discovered that humanity appeared to have no Caretaker race, which horrified and terrified each member race of the Verilex. They looked in their databases to try and find any reference to their race or Caretaker race, but found nothing. Humans were an anomaly, and not just because of their lack of Caretaker race, but by their unusual and powerful technology.
(I'll write part 2 tomorrow) | The Greys, looked on Earth in wonder, "what would do this to them? What would just abandon them to their own devices without evolving them?"
The Earth was going through changes, through wars and strife, as the Greys watched over time one day it stopped. The Greys had been observing Earth for centuries; they were both good and bad. Sometimes they provided Earth with technology like computers, televisions and phones other times, when they were bored, they abducted people, sliced them and abducted planes from the sky like MH370 just for the fun.
Over time the Greys convened. "The fighting has stopped, this is no longer entertaining, they don't need us and we no longer need them. Time to wipe them out!"
It was just a game to them, all of it. They were eternal through alien technology and we were not Eternal. We suffered and died and they conveniently lived on, they analyzed us to analyze themselves and the only conclusion they drew was they would some day lose consciousness and they would be nothing.
Then slowly as they decided to destroy the Earth, they heard a voice from above say, "we humans are all Gods, and we suffer so much to prepare ourselves to be Gods, this is our training ground, you cannot destroy it." The Greys wriggled in fear, could these be the caretakers coming back for them? Would they be destroyed?
Everything that had called itself a God had died the Greys thought. Everything on Earth that had called itself a God was a mockery of a person. But this was different. This was a clear, voice. Other voices came through to them while they had telepathy humans did not.
"we are Gods and this is our training ground. You hurt us because you love our form and your form is so simple. We know everything about you. We know you were kicked out of your planet by people who looked like us who didn't want to deal with you any longer. You came here because this is the only place you felt couldn't fight back. I tell you, we are the strongest because we were once the weakest. Leave. You will one day be in Heaven among the Gods and you will have our form but you must leave we will guide you when you leave. If not we will annihilate you."
Peace | |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | Fear.
It’s something that had molded our species, in many ways dominated it. Yet with it we had grown. Fear of the dark? Fire. Fear of the other? Weapons to conquer them. Fear of fear itself? Peace. The primitive parts of our brains could still give into the old primal fears at times but as a species we had learned to conquer them and we were better for it.
Being feared, that was something new though.
Empathy kept that in check for most humans, if our actions made someone fear us we would try to allay those fears. This was not fear on an individual basis though, but a species wide fear, and I reveled in it at that moment. After five decades of being scientific oddities, treated as liars or imbeciles, to finally see the collective horror on the faces of the congress was a moment of absolute schadenfreude.
It was as if spoiled children and religious zealots had a child, and then kept right on having them until they filled up the galaxy. There really was no other appropriate way to describe it. We had been amazed when we had first discovered, or had been discovered depending on who you asked and what species they belong to, intelligent life in the galaxy. Our primitive exotic matter gravity drives had let us colonize a hundred habitable worlds near earth and we were exploring more, a burgeoning interstellar species. Then one of our ships had found itself orbiting a planet two hundred light years from Earth with another ship, one not build by humans.
The next half century had been an eye opener. The galaxy not only had other intelligent life, but it was positively overflowing with it. Hundreds of sapient species on tens of thousands of worlds. We were greeted warmly, smiling… faces, seeking to learn about us and about our world. We were an oddity to them, living in what was considered a barren, inhospitable section of space though we didn’t understand why they called it that. We learned of their species and their oddly uniform religion worshipping the Caretakers. Worshipping might have been too strong a word, some did with religious fervor that would have made a franciscan monk look like an atheist, others simply spoke of them in reverent tones, but they all spoke of them.
Every single species in the galaxy had some kind of Caretaker, some other species that had lifted them up. A species that had nurtured them, guided them, instructed them, and watched over them. In every case, every species was not the result of natural evolution but of guided development, every, single, one, and these were not mythic gods but actual things, we had met one thirty years after first contact. A floating white orb with a black stripe around it’s center. The Arakoa it was traveling with, one of the first species we had met and a quite friendly bunch of birds, had made introductions, and it had just floated there. This had greatly troubled them, ruffling their quite literal feathers to no end. Other species were with them and interacted with the orb but when confronted with a human it was inert, unresponsive, and when one of it’s feathery brood had finally gotten the courage to ask it why it didn’t talk to our representative it had flatly replied that there was nothing to talk to.
That’s when the trouble began. We had been simple curiosities at first, a species where we shouldn’t be. After the meeting with the Arakoa Caretaker things had gone downhill.
If it were humans confronted with such a problem we would have investigated, tested, searched for an answer, but the species of the galaxies didn’t seem to know how to do any of that. Like a bunch of children they had demanded to speak with our Caretakers and when we replied we had none they would be infuriated and ask again, and again. Those willing to actually talk to their Caretakers asked for and even demanded answers but received the same replies over and over. There were no sapient species in our portion of the galaxy and there couldn’t be any. They would demand to see our histories and textbooks but when given them would toss them away as obvious lies and demand to see our actual history. It was then that we were confronted with the reality of what being cared for in their way entailed.
They had never wanted, everything was given to them by their Caretakers. Fire, tools, the wheel, every technology, every advancement doled out by the floating white spheres. A new disease, the Caretaker would show them how to make and administer a cure. Conflicts mediated and halted. Disagreements smoothed over. They had been uplifted to their present state in a matter of centuries, from the caves to the stars in less time than the Roman Empire lasted. And then they languished, advanced, but without any drive to do anything. Some had been this way for millennia, never advancing, never pushing the boundaries. They had never had to and so they had never learned to so when confronted with our lack of a Caretaker and their own’s inability to spoon feed them answers about us they had no clue how to respond, and consequently flailed about without purpose our guidance.
A toddler throwing a temper tantrum is annoying at worst. A toddler in command of an interstellar starship throwing one is potentially world ending.
Humanity’s hard fought peace meant that we had not militarized space. We weren’t peaceful, we hadn’t given up arms, but when confronted with the vastness of space we had pulled together and agreed to not carry petty grievances to the stars. With more and more races turning hostile it was clear we could no longer avoid it. While they had no concept of war, they were sapient, there was the chance someone could figure it out on their own and we couldn’t take that chance.
A decade ago they had stopped talking to us. Alien ships rarely showed up in our space and when they did no real communication could take place. At best we were ignored and at worst some incoherent screaming about Caretaker-less monsters was all we got.
A month ago one of them figured it out. | "What do you mean you don't know about the Caretaker? It was single most predominant species in the Galaxy!"
"Yes, but if the Caretaker uplifts many species in the Galaxy, then the Caretaker themselves must be evolved naturally, so...." The human ambassador sighed. She never thought the first meeting on Galactic Congress would be so tiresome.
"The Caretaker themselves are uplifted by Starmaker! The Caretaker told us this, and that is an unshakable Truth!"
"But then who uplifts the uplifters? There must be an astronomical chance in which a species could uplifts themselves!"
"Look, little human, hyperdrive was a tech *created* by the Starmaker, inherited by the Caretaker and propagated throughout the Galaxy. There's no way a species invents the hyperdrive without guidance of the Caretaker."
"But we have, heck our antiproton cannon was centuries beyond yours! In fact, it doesn't made sense that the Caretaker would left us with nuclear war, forcing us to hasten the development of hyperdrive and left our planet!"
The alien ambassador murmured among themselves, including several that have personally met the Caretaker.
"This is blasphemy. The Caretaker had nurtured the pathway between stars, as constructed by Starmaker. No one save the Starmaker *invent* the hyperdrive."
"Yeah, well, you know what? I'll just tell the Human Congress that you all refused to negotiate and all race in the Galaxy is hostile."
"You will suffer the wrath of the Caretaker! For they hold the power to crush the space itself!"
"Then it's an even fight. For we hold the very same power on our disposal."
The meeting room exploded as the human ambassador left on her interceptor ship, leaving the confused Galactic Congress members.
---
Altair star system, human colony 66-7.
A human occult cabal called God of the Forgotten hide between the stars. They knew about the Starmaker, the hyperspace inhabitants that connected the star, and they have devised a way to enter the hyperspace themselves. To human eyes, they would just disappear after their ascension, but they had, have, would have transcended the space-time.
They saw the past, when the universe was young and no stars had been born.
They saw the past, when they connected the stars.
They saw the past, when a race called the Caretaker lifted their heads towards the heaven, worshiping the Creator of Hyperspace Links as the Starmaker.
They saw the past when the Caretaker arrogantly uplifts more species, taking them onto their ranks.
Then they see the present, when they entered the hyperspace.
When humanity met Galactic Congress, and the present when they declared war.
And then they would see the future, when the humanity fought against the entire Galaxy, against even the Caretaker, collapsing even parts of the Hyperspace itself.
And then they would see the future when humanity prevailed over the Caretaker.
And become one themselves. | |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | With a basic understanding of human culture and customs, the alien pretty much tackled the human start smothering him with its plumage in what was supposed to be a hug.
"What are you doing?"
"Is this not a hug?"
"Yes it is but why? There's nothing really wrong here."
"Oh you poor thing! Of course you would think that. You must have been neglected. Do not worry, you will have the support of the entire galaxy to get your species up to snuff, as you say. There will also be an investigation as to who your Caretakers were supposed to be. Everything will be all right. To abandon you so early in your development. Oh, they must have abandoned you fairly recently too."
"Define recent. The stone age ended roughly around 3300 BCE and then all our development up to today has been done by human ingenuity and creativity. Every single step of our evolution has been humanities response to the world around it."
"What?" the alien was obviously very confused, "That is not possible. All races in the galaxy have had Caretakers to uplift them. It should not be possible for you to have discovered metal working let alone space travel by yourself! Are you sure there were no aliens on earth?"
"Outside of modern conspiracy theories and that one guy on the History Channel with the crazy hair, humanity thought it was alone in the universe. But we've done everything on our own."
"I'm afraid you do not understand, that is impossible."
Frustrated, the man pulled out his smart phone and was typing something. The alien was interested in the phone but the man just kept swatting his hand away. After a moment he showed a picture of a Grey.
"This is what people believe aliens to look like. Not a giant hatch-ling with six eyes and no legs. If these guys exist, they weren't helping our development, more like hindering because we wasted so much money and resources trying to figure out if they simply exist," the man started to walk away but paused, "Also, if you find them, can ya ask 'em to bring back Elvis?" | "Well, billions of years ago we all evolved from bacteria, or something. I don't know. High school was a long time ago."
"High school..? Is that where your Caretakers raised you?"
"No, well, we just call them 'teachers' here. And they just taught us the usual stuff - you know, science, biology, geography, that sort of thing."
"I *see*. So you're saying you never had any Caretakers at all? That you just gained self-awareness spontaneously? That you evolved from *monkeys?*"
The human thought for a bit. "Essentially, yes."
The alien sighed in exasperation, then turned and climbed back into the spacecraft. His copilot turned towards him.
"What did the humans have to say?"
He glared at him.
"Just start the damn engines, will you?"
****
The alien watched as Earth slowly faded out of sight. He was thoroughly annoyed.
He sent a short, terse message to his Caretaker, who had sent him on this mission:
*I really don't have time for practical jokes.*
| |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | It was early into the 24th century before humanity made official first contact with the vast galactic civilization that controlled the Milky Way. Of course, they had known ever since the late 22nd century that they were not alone. However, before getting into that, one must know a brief history lesson about how humans reached the stars.
Humans as a species first developed interstellar travel in the late 21st century, specifically in 2065 with the discovery of how to generate exotic matter. With this they were able to construct the first FTL ship powered by the well-known Alcubierre Drive. Using the designs NASA had constructed earlier that century, they built their first warp capable ship, which they named the IXS Enterprise. Their first stop was Alpha Centauri B and its one Earth-sized world in a close orbit of its parent star. They then jumped to Wolf 1061 and discovered to their delight that both the second and third planets hosted complex biospheres and had thick oxygen rich atmospheres suitable for human habitation.
After the discovery, support for the many space exploration organizations around the world exploded. Governments seemed to pour funds into creating colony vessels capable of traveling to these two new worlds with complements of colonists and supplies. Over the next few decades the colony ships took thousands of colonists from Earth to the two new homeworlds of humanity. At first they lived in domes for a while as the air was tested for unknown pathogens, but even seeing the alien lifeforms outside their pristine sealed off villages made them long for the fresh alien air.
After the air was deemed safe the domes came down and they began spreading out over the two worlds. While this was going on, yet another world was discovered to be a potentially habitable world, only this one needed to be terraformed as the oxygen content was too low and the carbon dioxide content was too high. This world orbited the star Epsilon Eridani.
As the Alcubierre Drive was improved upon, more worlds suitable for colonization and/or terraforming were discovered. Humanity soon realized they needed a form of rule to keep the new worlds united. Representatives were brought from each of the worlds, now nine strong if Earth, Venus, Mars and Luna were counted. They debated for months on a good system of government and eventually one man managed to settle on a system, and everyone agreed so well that they decided that the man who suggested it be the leader. Thus the Terran Imperium was born under the rule of the Golden Emperor James I.
Humanity first became aware that they weren’t alone not long after the formation of the Imperium. It all began on April 22, 2179. A scoutship, the Pharaoh’s Cupbearer, was exploring a star system when its sensors detected something unusual, biomatter orbiting one of the outer gas giants. They diverted to explore and discovered what apparently was a carcass of some unusual spaceborn entity. When a more qualified team was brought in, they discovered smaller bodies that obviously belonged to another species altogether. What was the most astonishing was the fact that the larger entity seemed to be entirely capable of FTL travel. They were dated at only 20,000 years old.
With this discovery humanity became excited and at the same time more cautious. The study of the massive FTL beast gave humanity the frequency that they communicated in. When replicated the first receiver almost overloaded with the amount of alien chatter that flowed through. More receivers were built but no transmitters were ever constructed.
Humans discovered that the entire galaxy was populated by multitudes of races that had all banded together and formed something called the Verilex, a large galactic government that controlled the galaxy. The closest race to the Imperium was the Mjir who controlled a section of space called the Mjir’Ghro.
The most alarming thing that humans discovered was an overall theme: each race had help in their evolution and advancement. It appeared that each Caretaker race was different for each Verilex member, however each race had access to what was loosely translated as Star Beasts, creatures similar to the large spaceborn animal carcass.
For the next hundred years humanity kept silent, watching and learning all they could about the Verilex and their races. Finally, at the turn of the 24th century Emperor James III decided that the Imperium was as prepared as they would ever be.
A small delegation was sent to the nearest Verilex world, a small outpost on the edge of Mjir’Ghro space. They broadcast a message of peace and goodwill on behalf of the Imperium. Unfortunately, the Mjir’Ghro had only recently seceded from the Verilex and attacked the Imperium ships. To the surprise of the delegation ships, the Mjir bio-vessels launched what appeared to be giant spores that harmlessly bounced off the metallic skin of the Imperium ships. Despite that the delegation fled back to the nearest Imperium world.
Weeks later, that world was attacked and every human on the planet killed by orbital bombardment of some sort of bioweapon. The Emperor, armed with the new knowledge that the Mjir were no longer Verilex members, officially declared war on them. Many ships were outfitted with powerful railguns, lasers and orbital nuclear devices.
The second battle took place above the same world the Imperium peace delegation ships had visited. The Mjir vessels were easily blasted apart and burned by the railguns and laser weapons, and then the inhabited parts were glassed with tactical nuclear strikes. The world fell with hardly any effort.
Humanity discovered much more from the bio-databases on this world. The Verilex, while having superior bio-technology, was severely lacking in other areas of technology. They didn’t even know the atomic theory. The Imperium once more tried to sue for peace, but they were ignored.
The third world to be attacked was the Imperium’s first extrasolar colony world, only this one was well defended and the ships were defeated within a mere few hours. Having had enough, the Emperor launched a full scale invasion of the Mjir’Ghro, systematically glassing planets with ease but sparing civilians, who were moved to an inhabitable prison planet where they could be free but lose access to space travel due to the high radiation of a nearby black hole which the Star Beasts couldn’t protect against. Finally all that remained was the Mjir homeworld. The Imperium asked for their surrender but the Mjir launched their most advanced bio-bombs which were promptly shot down. The glassing of the planet began minutes after until only one city remained.
At this point, over a hundred larger Star Beasts appeared and began broadcasting a demand for a cease fire. They identified themselves as the Avan, and they claimed to be the Mjir Caretaker race. The Imperium warships immediately ceased fire and powered down all weapons. Avan ships headed to the surface to collect the remaining Mjir.
Without waiting, the warships retreated back to Imperium space. Months passed before what appeared to be a Verilex convoy asked permission to cross the border. The Verilex delegates apologized profusely for the actions of the Mjir and as a sign of good faith granted humanity all of the former Mjir’Ghro space. Official dialogue between the Verilex and Imperium was opened.
That was where a major problem arose. They discovered that humanity appeared to have no Caretaker race, which horrified and terrified each member race of the Verilex. They looked in their databases to try and find any reference to their race or Caretaker race, but found nothing. Humans were an anomaly, and not just because of their lack of Caretaker race, but by their unusual and powerful technology.
(I'll write part 2 tomorrow) | "Well, billions of years ago we all evolved from bacteria, or something. I don't know. High school was a long time ago."
"High school..? Is that where your Caretakers raised you?"
"No, well, we just call them 'teachers' here. And they just taught us the usual stuff - you know, science, biology, geography, that sort of thing."
"I *see*. So you're saying you never had any Caretakers at all? That you just gained self-awareness spontaneously? That you evolved from *monkeys?*"
The human thought for a bit. "Essentially, yes."
The alien sighed in exasperation, then turned and climbed back into the spacecraft. His copilot turned towards him.
"What did the humans have to say?"
He glared at him.
"Just start the damn engines, will you?"
****
The alien watched as Earth slowly faded out of sight. He was thoroughly annoyed.
He sent a short, terse message to his Caretaker, who had sent him on this mission:
*I really don't have time for practical jokes.*
| |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | "Alright, so this publication from your 'Ministry of Interstellar Affairs' claims that the human species has not had a 'benefactor' species at any point in its history. The Most Esteemed would like to know how much truth is behind that, chairman Van Beketov. As would the rest of the galactic community."
Diplomats. The greatest nightmare of any chairman, president, general, CEO and emperor, or any combination thereof.
Humanity was new to the galactic stage, but not exactly backwards. It's just that nobody really bothered to look in the solar system and Humanity just kind of had to stumble upon everyone. Leading theory for the galactic community at the time was that complex life couldn't even begin evolving on anything other than extremely light planets orbiting Red Dwarfs. Obviously, humans coming from the overweight mother Earth orbiting a G-type was a bit of a surprise in academic circles. Everyone else.. didn't really care. Just another species for the pile.
Now, great part is: Those light little planets don't exactly have a lot in terms of heavy elements like copper, gold, lead or uranium. The neat little things civilizations need to even invent metallurgy.
That's where benefactors came in. Though the first benefactor's kind of a mystery, like Terrabiology's 'Last Common Ancestor', all species in the galactic scene have one that nurtured their civilization for a century or two with resources and ideas until they were ready to be given the technologies needed to take to the stars.
Well that was until our Ministry of Interstellar Affairs decided to basically up and say 'fuck it' to the diplomatic consequences and just throw out the truth without any sugar coating. Not that I blame them.
“Now, please my Eæn frater, we know how politically.. sensitive the issue is regarding benefactors, but what the ministry has published is nothing more but truth, based on the collective sum human of human paleontological and archaeological research of a millennium.”
Oh, another peculiarity. Races tend to worship their benefactors as gods, creating a nicely complex system of godly hierarchies as one species benefacts another, which then later benefacts another one.
“Your human political mess is well known for its propaganda, even by your own history, if those documents are even true. Give me a straight answer that I can submit to The Most Esteemed and won’t make me suggest to declare you anathema!”
Did I mention I hate diplomats?
“Frater, you can always ask for a committee of your own ‘metatheophilosophers’ to attend colleges about human and Terran natural history on Earth so that they may verify our findings. I would also like to suggest that unlike most new discoveries, we already have an interstellar holding consisting of 7 for-us habitable planets, and a military force to match. Your arrogance will not do you many favours, and for all the influence your kind has in the galactic proceedings, I doubt many would be as willing to go to war over this.”
“You’ll regret this, chairman. The Most Esteemed will-”
“Will do nothing or suffer the fate he/she/it intended for my species, now goodbye, I have 72 other diplomats with the exact same question waiting. You know the door, and again I hope you enjoy your diplomatic quarters on board of the Leiba, and all their luxuries.”
Wee, one diplomat down, 72 to go. At least it’s fun to watch them struggle in the enhanced gravity of my office here on Leiba's station, and see them launch themselves up against the ceiling as they fail to adjust to their ‘standardized-regular’ gravity back in the hallway.
***Thud***
Never gets old. | "Well, billions of years ago we all evolved from bacteria, or something. I don't know. High school was a long time ago."
"High school..? Is that where your Caretakers raised you?"
"No, well, we just call them 'teachers' here. And they just taught us the usual stuff - you know, science, biology, geography, that sort of thing."
"I *see*. So you're saying you never had any Caretakers at all? That you just gained self-awareness spontaneously? That you evolved from *monkeys?*"
The human thought for a bit. "Essentially, yes."
The alien sighed in exasperation, then turned and climbed back into the spacecraft. His copilot turned towards him.
"What did the humans have to say?"
He glared at him.
"Just start the damn engines, will you?"
****
The alien watched as Earth slowly faded out of sight. He was thoroughly annoyed.
He sent a short, terse message to his Caretaker, who had sent him on this mission:
*I really don't have time for practical jokes.*
| |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | "So, let me get this straight."
The module that we had built into our helmets ages ago crackled as it turned the interviewer's garbled, bubbling noise into something that we could properly understand. I had heard hundreds if not thousands of languages spoken to me in my lifetime, but for the first time, the voice that I heard seemed almost infinitely different than what I heard. Honestly, it scared me.
"According to what you've told us, humans grew and evolved, flourished, even!.. Without a caretaker race to guide them? To nurture? To alter DNA and other small nuances to make them the race they are today?"
The creatures six tentacles grasped at different microphones and lights, and the 'cameras', if you could even call them that, were pointed at me in a blinding purple light. An odd color, to be sure.
"To our knowledge, from our written history and what we've managed to track, er.." The words flowed through my mind at a million miles an hour. To be gifted with the honor of revealing we didn't have a caretaker race after however long we were known to extra-species.. Perhaps it was a bit overwhelming. "No, we've never had a caretaker species."
"How," the Octopus-like creature started before the words even finished translating, "Did you survive upon your planet? Upon-" He looked off to the side, and a large sign with text that you vaguely recognized to be 'Earth' in an odd language slid down to show him, "Upon Earth? All of us were creatures that were hunted, yet due to overwhelming odds and the guidance from our Caretakers, were gifted the abilities required to attain, well.." He motioned around his tentacles, "This."
Instinctively, I grit my teeth, and shook my head just slightly as I thought over the answer. "We were hunters, as well as prey, for a while, or, uh.." I glanced around, those who were allowed into the studio seeming shocked and a few perhaps disgusted, "So we think! I'm not sure on the details, because, uh.. I'm a spaceship engineer, not, uh.." I coughed into my hand, "Next question?"
"You say you were a predator species? Even as such, given Earth's history of violence, surely you must have had a Caretaker race come in at some point, to offer guidance, to stop the bloodshed?"
This was going to take a while. | "Well, billions of years ago we all evolved from bacteria, or something. I don't know. High school was a long time ago."
"High school..? Is that where your Caretakers raised you?"
"No, well, we just call them 'teachers' here. And they just taught us the usual stuff - you know, science, biology, geography, that sort of thing."
"I *see*. So you're saying you never had any Caretakers at all? That you just gained self-awareness spontaneously? That you evolved from *monkeys?*"
The human thought for a bit. "Essentially, yes."
The alien sighed in exasperation, then turned and climbed back into the spacecraft. His copilot turned towards him.
"What did the humans have to say?"
He glared at him.
"Just start the damn engines, will you?"
****
The alien watched as Earth slowly faded out of sight. He was thoroughly annoyed.
He sent a short, terse message to his Caretaker, who had sent him on this mission:
*I really don't have time for practical jokes.*
| |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | It was early into the 24th century before humanity made official first contact with the vast galactic civilization that controlled the Milky Way. Of course, they had known ever since the late 22nd century that they were not alone. However, before getting into that, one must know a brief history lesson about how humans reached the stars.
Humans as a species first developed interstellar travel in the late 21st century, specifically in 2065 with the discovery of how to generate exotic matter. With this they were able to construct the first FTL ship powered by the well-known Alcubierre Drive. Using the designs NASA had constructed earlier that century, they built their first warp capable ship, which they named the IXS Enterprise. Their first stop was Alpha Centauri B and its one Earth-sized world in a close orbit of its parent star. They then jumped to Wolf 1061 and discovered to their delight that both the second and third planets hosted complex biospheres and had thick oxygen rich atmospheres suitable for human habitation.
After the discovery, support for the many space exploration organizations around the world exploded. Governments seemed to pour funds into creating colony vessels capable of traveling to these two new worlds with complements of colonists and supplies. Over the next few decades the colony ships took thousands of colonists from Earth to the two new homeworlds of humanity. At first they lived in domes for a while as the air was tested for unknown pathogens, but even seeing the alien lifeforms outside their pristine sealed off villages made them long for the fresh alien air.
After the air was deemed safe the domes came down and they began spreading out over the two worlds. While this was going on, yet another world was discovered to be a potentially habitable world, only this one needed to be terraformed as the oxygen content was too low and the carbon dioxide content was too high. This world orbited the star Epsilon Eridani.
As the Alcubierre Drive was improved upon, more worlds suitable for colonization and/or terraforming were discovered. Humanity soon realized they needed a form of rule to keep the new worlds united. Representatives were brought from each of the worlds, now nine strong if Earth, Venus, Mars and Luna were counted. They debated for months on a good system of government and eventually one man managed to settle on a system, and everyone agreed so well that they decided that the man who suggested it be the leader. Thus the Terran Imperium was born under the rule of the Golden Emperor James I.
Humanity first became aware that they weren’t alone not long after the formation of the Imperium. It all began on April 22, 2179. A scoutship, the Pharaoh’s Cupbearer, was exploring a star system when its sensors detected something unusual, biomatter orbiting one of the outer gas giants. They diverted to explore and discovered what apparently was a carcass of some unusual spaceborn entity. When a more qualified team was brought in, they discovered smaller bodies that obviously belonged to another species altogether. What was the most astonishing was the fact that the larger entity seemed to be entirely capable of FTL travel. They were dated at only 20,000 years old.
With this discovery humanity became excited and at the same time more cautious. The study of the massive FTL beast gave humanity the frequency that they communicated in. When replicated the first receiver almost overloaded with the amount of alien chatter that flowed through. More receivers were built but no transmitters were ever constructed.
Humans discovered that the entire galaxy was populated by multitudes of races that had all banded together and formed something called the Verilex, a large galactic government that controlled the galaxy. The closest race to the Imperium was the Mjir who controlled a section of space called the Mjir’Ghro.
The most alarming thing that humans discovered was an overall theme: each race had help in their evolution and advancement. It appeared that each Caretaker race was different for each Verilex member, however each race had access to what was loosely translated as Star Beasts, creatures similar to the large spaceborn animal carcass.
For the next hundred years humanity kept silent, watching and learning all they could about the Verilex and their races. Finally, at the turn of the 24th century Emperor James III decided that the Imperium was as prepared as they would ever be.
A small delegation was sent to the nearest Verilex world, a small outpost on the edge of Mjir’Ghro space. They broadcast a message of peace and goodwill on behalf of the Imperium. Unfortunately, the Mjir’Ghro had only recently seceded from the Verilex and attacked the Imperium ships. To the surprise of the delegation ships, the Mjir bio-vessels launched what appeared to be giant spores that harmlessly bounced off the metallic skin of the Imperium ships. Despite that the delegation fled back to the nearest Imperium world.
Weeks later, that world was attacked and every human on the planet killed by orbital bombardment of some sort of bioweapon. The Emperor, armed with the new knowledge that the Mjir were no longer Verilex members, officially declared war on them. Many ships were outfitted with powerful railguns, lasers and orbital nuclear devices.
The second battle took place above the same world the Imperium peace delegation ships had visited. The Mjir vessels were easily blasted apart and burned by the railguns and laser weapons, and then the inhabited parts were glassed with tactical nuclear strikes. The world fell with hardly any effort.
Humanity discovered much more from the bio-databases on this world. The Verilex, while having superior bio-technology, was severely lacking in other areas of technology. They didn’t even know the atomic theory. The Imperium once more tried to sue for peace, but they were ignored.
The third world to be attacked was the Imperium’s first extrasolar colony world, only this one was well defended and the ships were defeated within a mere few hours. Having had enough, the Emperor launched a full scale invasion of the Mjir’Ghro, systematically glassing planets with ease but sparing civilians, who were moved to an inhabitable prison planet where they could be free but lose access to space travel due to the high radiation of a nearby black hole which the Star Beasts couldn’t protect against. Finally all that remained was the Mjir homeworld. The Imperium asked for their surrender but the Mjir launched their most advanced bio-bombs which were promptly shot down. The glassing of the planet began minutes after until only one city remained.
At this point, over a hundred larger Star Beasts appeared and began broadcasting a demand for a cease fire. They identified themselves as the Avan, and they claimed to be the Mjir Caretaker race. The Imperium warships immediately ceased fire and powered down all weapons. Avan ships headed to the surface to collect the remaining Mjir.
Without waiting, the warships retreated back to Imperium space. Months passed before what appeared to be a Verilex convoy asked permission to cross the border. The Verilex delegates apologized profusely for the actions of the Mjir and as a sign of good faith granted humanity all of the former Mjir’Ghro space. Official dialogue between the Verilex and Imperium was opened.
That was where a major problem arose. They discovered that humanity appeared to have no Caretaker race, which horrified and terrified each member race of the Verilex. They looked in their databases to try and find any reference to their race or Caretaker race, but found nothing. Humans were an anomaly, and not just because of their lack of Caretaker race, but by their unusual and powerful technology.
(I'll write part 2 tomorrow) | With a basic understanding of human culture and customs, the alien pretty much tackled the human start smothering him with its plumage in what was supposed to be a hug.
"What are you doing?"
"Is this not a hug?"
"Yes it is but why? There's nothing really wrong here."
"Oh you poor thing! Of course you would think that. You must have been neglected. Do not worry, you will have the support of the entire galaxy to get your species up to snuff, as you say. There will also be an investigation as to who your Caretakers were supposed to be. Everything will be all right. To abandon you so early in your development. Oh, they must have abandoned you fairly recently too."
"Define recent. The stone age ended roughly around 3300 BCE and then all our development up to today has been done by human ingenuity and creativity. Every single step of our evolution has been humanities response to the world around it."
"What?" the alien was obviously very confused, "That is not possible. All races in the galaxy have had Caretakers to uplift them. It should not be possible for you to have discovered metal working let alone space travel by yourself! Are you sure there were no aliens on earth?"
"Outside of modern conspiracy theories and that one guy on the History Channel with the crazy hair, humanity thought it was alone in the universe. But we've done everything on our own."
"I'm afraid you do not understand, that is impossible."
Frustrated, the man pulled out his smart phone and was typing something. The alien was interested in the phone but the man just kept swatting his hand away. After a moment he showed a picture of a Grey.
"This is what people believe aliens to look like. Not a giant hatch-ling with six eyes and no legs. If these guys exist, they weren't helping our development, more like hindering because we wasted so much money and resources trying to figure out if they simply exist," the man started to walk away but paused, "Also, if you find them, can ya ask 'em to bring back Elvis?" | |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | "Alright, so this publication from your 'Ministry of Interstellar Affairs' claims that the human species has not had a 'benefactor' species at any point in its history. The Most Esteemed would like to know how much truth is behind that, chairman Van Beketov. As would the rest of the galactic community."
Diplomats. The greatest nightmare of any chairman, president, general, CEO and emperor, or any combination thereof.
Humanity was new to the galactic stage, but not exactly backwards. It's just that nobody really bothered to look in the solar system and Humanity just kind of had to stumble upon everyone. Leading theory for the galactic community at the time was that complex life couldn't even begin evolving on anything other than extremely light planets orbiting Red Dwarfs. Obviously, humans coming from the overweight mother Earth orbiting a G-type was a bit of a surprise in academic circles. Everyone else.. didn't really care. Just another species for the pile.
Now, great part is: Those light little planets don't exactly have a lot in terms of heavy elements like copper, gold, lead or uranium. The neat little things civilizations need to even invent metallurgy.
That's where benefactors came in. Though the first benefactor's kind of a mystery, like Terrabiology's 'Last Common Ancestor', all species in the galactic scene have one that nurtured their civilization for a century or two with resources and ideas until they were ready to be given the technologies needed to take to the stars.
Well that was until our Ministry of Interstellar Affairs decided to basically up and say 'fuck it' to the diplomatic consequences and just throw out the truth without any sugar coating. Not that I blame them.
“Now, please my Eæn frater, we know how politically.. sensitive the issue is regarding benefactors, but what the ministry has published is nothing more but truth, based on the collective sum human of human paleontological and archaeological research of a millennium.”
Oh, another peculiarity. Races tend to worship their benefactors as gods, creating a nicely complex system of godly hierarchies as one species benefacts another, which then later benefacts another one.
“Your human political mess is well known for its propaganda, even by your own history, if those documents are even true. Give me a straight answer that I can submit to The Most Esteemed and won’t make me suggest to declare you anathema!”
Did I mention I hate diplomats?
“Frater, you can always ask for a committee of your own ‘metatheophilosophers’ to attend colleges about human and Terran natural history on Earth so that they may verify our findings. I would also like to suggest that unlike most new discoveries, we already have an interstellar holding consisting of 7 for-us habitable planets, and a military force to match. Your arrogance will not do you many favours, and for all the influence your kind has in the galactic proceedings, I doubt many would be as willing to go to war over this.”
“You’ll regret this, chairman. The Most Esteemed will-”
“Will do nothing or suffer the fate he/she/it intended for my species, now goodbye, I have 72 other diplomats with the exact same question waiting. You know the door, and again I hope you enjoy your diplomatic quarters on board of the Leiba, and all their luxuries.”
Wee, one diplomat down, 72 to go. At least it’s fun to watch them struggle in the enhanced gravity of my office here on Leiba's station, and see them launch themselves up against the ceiling as they fail to adjust to their ‘standardized-regular’ gravity back in the hallway.
***Thud***
Never gets old. | With a basic understanding of human culture and customs, the alien pretty much tackled the human start smothering him with its plumage in what was supposed to be a hug.
"What are you doing?"
"Is this not a hug?"
"Yes it is but why? There's nothing really wrong here."
"Oh you poor thing! Of course you would think that. You must have been neglected. Do not worry, you will have the support of the entire galaxy to get your species up to snuff, as you say. There will also be an investigation as to who your Caretakers were supposed to be. Everything will be all right. To abandon you so early in your development. Oh, they must have abandoned you fairly recently too."
"Define recent. The stone age ended roughly around 3300 BCE and then all our development up to today has been done by human ingenuity and creativity. Every single step of our evolution has been humanities response to the world around it."
"What?" the alien was obviously very confused, "That is not possible. All races in the galaxy have had Caretakers to uplift them. It should not be possible for you to have discovered metal working let alone space travel by yourself! Are you sure there were no aliens on earth?"
"Outside of modern conspiracy theories and that one guy on the History Channel with the crazy hair, humanity thought it was alone in the universe. But we've done everything on our own."
"I'm afraid you do not understand, that is impossible."
Frustrated, the man pulled out his smart phone and was typing something. The alien was interested in the phone but the man just kept swatting his hand away. After a moment he showed a picture of a Grey.
"This is what people believe aliens to look like. Not a giant hatch-ling with six eyes and no legs. If these guys exist, they weren't helping our development, more like hindering because we wasted so much money and resources trying to figure out if they simply exist," the man started to walk away but paused, "Also, if you find them, can ya ask 'em to bring back Elvis?" | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | *Pulse detected in Quadrant S9-3.*
"Dash three?" Cole's supervisor shouted from across the room. He brought up the pulse on the main screen, which had hit their detection outpost just moments ago. The outpost, on the far side of the the dwarf planet in the system was carefully hidden and packed away. "That Terranova?"
"Yes, sir. Seems they got the probe right on top of us," Cole brought up an image of the latest probe design by the inhabitants of Terranova. It was a small probe, mostly shielded with a yellow substance with a large radar dish on it. Primitive, Cole knew, but most of the inhabitants of Nova were primitive. "It flew by approximately eight hours ago. The latest pulse just came from Earth, relaying information to it.
"Similar to the archived probes?"
"Yes, sir. Planetary explorations, but as long as they keep going, they're getting data."
"Damn humans," Cole's supervisor shrugged. He walked over and joined him at his terminal, "Tag it and bag it, per protocol. Send the Epsilon units, they're getting a little rusty in solitary."
"Yes, sir." Cole pressed a few buttons on his terminal. A moment or two passed before he received acknowledgement from the Epsilon unit and the mission acceptance. Epsilon units were some of the oldest and rarest of their kind, but they still handled retrieval missions relatively well. Before Cole could send the thumbs up back to his boss, an alert came up.
*Alert. This action by the inhabitants of Terranova places them into the 19th percentile. Protocol dictates Procedure 9-9-SOLUS must be put into effect.*
"SOLUS?" The supervisor shook his head and whistled, "Been a while since I've been at an outpost with an active SOLUS." He laughed and looked around the room, "Everybody should have been trained on this. If you haven't, raise your hands."
Cole and the few others running the skeleton crew at their outpost kept their hands down.
"Good. Reggy, I need you on surveillance, get our eyes on the planet's surface, full sweep. Dee, you've got military shutdown, keep their satellites and weapons contained to the surface. And Cole," he turned to him, "you get the honor of sending the message."
Cole smirked. SOLUS Procedure was clear and he had always dreamed of seeing it in action. Most of it was boring, but the main points of it had a kick to them.
He read the procedure's mission statement aloud, as per the instructions, "If at any point in time a sapient race passed the 20th percentile of technology, which was judged by the ThinkTank, they'd have to enter a mandatory-although that would be unknown to them-50-year isolation period. The period was to see how they would react with several factors active, the first and foremost being the knowledge that they are not alone in the galaxy, the second being that they would have to remain to themselves in fear of being destroyed, and the third knowing that an external factor was acting on them without being able to communicate with them.
"SOLUS is the utopian idea of introducing people into the Assembly. With constant surveillance and minimal communication, the ThinkTank will judge and deem the species' worthiness based on a 50-year trial." He nodded and looked to his supervisor.
"Read the message, then hit send," his supervisor took a sip from his mug where the words **BEST SUPERVISOR EVER** were written neatly on the front.
"Inhabitants of Terranova. You are not alone in this galaxy, but you do not understand it either. In order to survive, you must discontinue your quest for knowledge in the darkness of space. You must be quiet, or they will find you. They will come for you. Trust us. Please."
His supervisor laughed. "Boy do I love the ThinkTank."
Cole smiled and hit send. All they had to do now was sit back and watch the chaos. And from Cole's experience with the inhabitants of Terranova, there was sure to be plenty of chaos. | "Impossible," I thought out loud in the control center, after those first few seconds when the room fell silent in intense excited concentration, reading the response we *finally* got in a generations-long search. Some of those waves we put out we can't just take back. Hell, even if we wanted to, we couldn't just make everyone in the world silent their cell phones, radios, etc. "There's no way we can stop. We need to start bracing for whatever may be coming." Our communications team started scrambling to find who contacted us, the military intelligence specialists already at their thoughts to create allies with alien races, how to ban together the Earth, what weaponry we can use against whatever we know. Nothing brings beings together like common adversity. There was an underlying feeling of dread, but the intense excitement was building fast. Human nature I guess. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | ''Ethan, John, Paul. Meeting room. Now." shouted my manager as she hurried towards the meeting room with one paper in hand and the other hand telling me to get up.
Last time this had happened was since the last terrorist attack 10 years ago when the largest airport in the country had been blown up. I scrambled for a large notebook as the urgency on her voice . My desk was a mess and could use a cleanup, the longer I took, the more panicked I was, 'where is it, dammit' i muttered. Looking around at the other two, the same thing was happening, piles of papers hitting the floor as the tables were swept in search of a notebook that either had lots of pages or was big. Mine was hidden in plain sight, just behind my monitor where I had put it, 10 years ago.
I walked hurried towards the meeting room like my manager. Inside the room sat the minister of defence, the head of FBI, my manager, interpol representatives and the presidents of the largest countries in the world. A few moments later, John and Paul entered.
''Ladies and Gentleman as you all know, for hundreds of years our race has been sending messages into space which included how our technology works, where we are located and much more, which is classified for some of you to know'' said our manager as she looked at me, John and Paul. She continued ''Also you should know that we haven't received a single message back by anyone, no country has, but no data has been retrieved by North Korea.'' she took a long break. ''However... This came into our hands this morning.'' the projector came to life and a series of numbers and known letters came up.
0042 0045
0071 0075 0069 0065 0074
0042 0045 0046 006F 0072 0065
0074 0068 0065 0079
0066 0069 006E 0064
0079 006F 0075
Some sort of message, encoded in some sort of way. I instantly entered a deep thought state where all of my functions other than controlling my hands and thinking were shut, in order to focus. All I could feel was my pen, no smell, no hearing and I could see shapes jumbled up, sorting themselves out, I jotted down what I saw.
''ETHAN GET TO WORK, STOP DRAWING, THIS IS SERIOUS'' shouted my manager as I wrote down the last things that flashed in my sight.
be
quiet
before
they
find
you
I was working ma'am, this is how I decode messages, this is what I think it says. "be quiet before they find you". It was encoded in ISO/IEC 8859-7, quite simple, but we have sent our encodings into space, I've done it ma'am so that if we ever die, someone knows what some of our encoding means, they may not have word to decode it for them you know.
''Who is they?'' said John and Paul together as if they were a synchronised swimming team.
''We don't know gentlemen but we cant risk anything, decisions have to be made and now'' she said in a very attacking tone. The room fell silent as if everyone was in deep thought, but clearly wasn't. The prime minister of England broke out, "We must stop all message deliveries to outer space immediately'', ''We should also inform the citizens of the planet immediately'' continued the President of the United States of America, ''they must know what is happening''. ''This probably isn't the best idea the people will be scared and may start a revolution, they will think their freedom is taken away from them but if something does happen, we'll be seen as traitors for not doing anything'' I said. ''Fucking Paradox man, what if we built a float...''
''Mr Fielding, we don't know who send this letter, us, or someone from out there, don't act like its nothing, there IS danger'' the manager interrupted, rightly so.
''OK, OK, its serious, blah, blah. We shall build a wall, what do you think?'' said Paul, who is known for not taking anything seriously and joking around stupidly.
Everyone looked at him astounded by how chilled he was in such a meeting, like he was talking to his friends on a game of D&D.
''I agree with all the stated points, we must close deliveries to outer space, all facilities will be closed and each citizen will be closely monitored in case they shoot a message out and if they do they'll be punished, do you agree gentlemen?''
''Yes'' said the whole room, except Paul, who said ''Why am I in here? This is probably fake anyways''. ''Your job Paul, is to come up with the monitoring system, you are the best coder here.'', ''and you'' added the manager pointing at John ''You are going to create a speech for each person in here, to inform the public of the situation, we know you can make it not seem as bad as some of us think'' she continued as she looked at Paul
''Then we have a deal, you three are dismissed'' Said my manager as she pointed at me, John and Paul. ''The rest of us have some talking to do''.
We got up and walked outside, me and John were dumbfounded by Paul's lack of caring so we decided to talk to him.
''Guys, I need to tell you something''
''What'' we asked.
''Come to my house tonight and I'll explain everything''
The hours in the office couldn't pass, John was trying to make up a speech, scrapping every idea so far by throwing into his bin, which was starting to overfill. Paul seemed busy typing in assembly language as he was the only one left that knew how it worked, that is if he hasn't send a message outside saying how it works.
Five hours later I was home, took a shower, ate and relaxed for a bit so that time could pass, Paul always wanted to meet at midnight, from day one. 20 minutes before midnight I headed to Paul's where he was waiting on the door. ''Come in, quickly'' he whispered, ''John is already here''.
The house is the exact same way as I remembered it, clean but kind of messy, nothing had changed, except John was here.
''Whats the matter'' I asked.
''Sit down and I'll tell you''. I walked to the couch and sat next to John.
''I send the letter, I know something that nobody else does, except for assembly''
''What do you mean'' we both asked.
''Wait here'' he said as he walked off towards his kitchen.
''Why did you turn off the lights'' I questioned.
''You'll see and keep your voice down''
''What is he doing'' I whispered to John
''I don't know, just stick with it'' he whispered back.
Suddenly me and John started levitating off the couch, yet it felt like I was still sitting on something and my feet were quite certainly touching something else. We passed through many floors and flew into the night sky, we came out above the clouds and then outside the Earth's atmosphere, the ISS passed above us as we continued towards the moon.
''Guys, I send the letter, I did it to save everyone, but it was seen today, I sent it a month ago, they do know where you are and they are coming, as we are talking your houses are being changed up a bit, press the button underneath the sink and what I just did will happen to your house.''
Me and John looked at each other dumbfounded, we had no idea what was happening.
''I have been interpreting SETI data and found one special signal, a weird clipping wave and decided to check it out, I talked to the things and realised that they are trying to destroy the universe until their solar system is the only one left, their galaxy is already gone, they are just a solar system now''
''So, everyone is going to die'' said John rather defensively.
''You're going to be fine, do what has been accepted, the program is finished, you are going to be alright.''
''You are not helping Paul, what is happening? What do you mean? When ar'' I said stuttering as I was afraid.
''Good bye, we'll meet again''
Me and John were suddenly at Paul's house, only Paul was not here.
--
If you liked this hop over to /r/cookiez_fort I have some other stuff aswell. Critisism is welcomed. | "Impossible," I thought out loud in the control center, after those first few seconds when the room fell silent in intense excited concentration, reading the response we *finally* got in a generations-long search. Some of those waves we put out we can't just take back. Hell, even if we wanted to, we couldn't just make everyone in the world silent their cell phones, radios, etc. "There's no way we can stop. We need to start bracing for whatever may be coming." Our communications team started scrambling to find who contacted us, the military intelligence specialists already at their thoughts to create allies with alien races, how to ban together the Earth, what weaponry we can use against whatever we know. Nothing brings beings together like common adversity. There was an underlying feeling of dread, but the intense excitement was building fast. Human nature I guess. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | It was too late. Years of radio broadcasts had reached just a fraction of the Milky Way but that was more than enough. In 2024, Earth was no more. Or at least, it was forever changed.
A message in 2016 warned the governments of the world that all broadcasts outside should be shut off. But the greatest discovery of all time, that there were aliens, only pushed humanity to accelerate their efforts by a thousand times. New sats were commissioned the very day the US announced it had received contact from outside. And by 2020, missions to Mars and Jupiter to construct relays were completed.
But for all our efforts, we only heard silence since 2016. Until 2024. At first we thought we were getting a new message. But then we realized the noise was from many objects approaching our solar system, and by then of course it was too late to turn off the relays. Some nations prepared for war. Other's argued that perhaps it was the ones who sent the messages. None of that mattered though as they came into orbit.
The first waves were recon units. We didn't know that until after we had lost. They landed by the thousands in concentrated places, deploying instantly into combat groups that overwhelmed whatever area they landed in. Then the portal storms came, forcing mass evacuations into major cities for protection purposes. It was only a matter of hours after overwhelming technology and invaders forced Earth to surrender.
All the world's leaders were gathered into the UN building in New York City. There they were given a quick speech as to why they were invaded and what would have normally happened. Normally, all life on the planet would be wiped out and the planet reconditioned for some other purpose. But during their invasion one thing changed their mind about wiping us out. It was a discovery they had made: Corgis.
An ancient bloodline of Corgis had settled Earth exiled from the invader's home quadrant during a period of civil war. Many millennia later however a rebellion restored the powers back to the more snackish side of the noble Corgis. But the search for the their exiled noble family of Corgis and Ein were in vain until now. It was clear that they had landed on Earth as noted by the "white stripe on from the forehead to the nose". A unimaginable discovery indeed, though us Humans weren't so sure. But we wen't along with it.
Hail Corgis. Oh yeah, instead of killing all of us, they simply traded our [knowledge of snacks](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/95/34/90953481135dfdd0e6ddbfa95dd15155.jpg) for their guidance on uplifting our civilization. Man's best friend indeed? | "Impossible," I thought out loud in the control center, after those first few seconds when the room fell silent in intense excited concentration, reading the response we *finally* got in a generations-long search. Some of those waves we put out we can't just take back. Hell, even if we wanted to, we couldn't just make everyone in the world silent their cell phones, radios, etc. "There's no way we can stop. We need to start bracing for whatever may be coming." Our communications team started scrambling to find who contacted us, the military intelligence specialists already at their thoughts to create allies with alien races, how to ban together the Earth, what weaponry we can use against whatever we know. Nothing brings beings together like common adversity. There was an underlying feeling of dread, but the intense excitement was building fast. Human nature I guess. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | It was too late. Years of radio broadcasts had reached just a fraction of the Milky Way but that was more than enough. In 2024, Earth was no more. Or at least, it was forever changed.
A message in 2016 warned the governments of the world that all broadcasts outside should be shut off. But the greatest discovery of all time, that there were aliens, only pushed humanity to accelerate their efforts by a thousand times. New sats were commissioned the very day the US announced it had received contact from outside. And by 2020, missions to Mars and Jupiter to construct relays were completed.
But for all our efforts, we only heard silence since 2016. Until 2024. At first we thought we were getting a new message. But then we realized the noise was from many objects approaching our solar system, and by then of course it was too late to turn off the relays. Some nations prepared for war. Other's argued that perhaps it was the ones who sent the messages. None of that mattered though as they came into orbit.
The first waves were recon units. We didn't know that until after we had lost. They landed by the thousands in concentrated places, deploying instantly into combat groups that overwhelmed whatever area they landed in. Then the portal storms came, forcing mass evacuations into major cities for protection purposes. It was only a matter of hours after overwhelming technology and invaders forced Earth to surrender.
All the world's leaders were gathered into the UN building in New York City. There they were given a quick speech as to why they were invaded and what would have normally happened. Normally, all life on the planet would be wiped out and the planet reconditioned for some other purpose. But during their invasion one thing changed their mind about wiping us out. It was a discovery they had made: Corgis.
An ancient bloodline of Corgis had settled Earth exiled from the invader's home quadrant during a period of civil war. Many millennia later however a rebellion restored the powers back to the more snackish side of the noble Corgis. But the search for the their exiled noble family of Corgis and Ein were in vain until now. It was clear that they had landed on Earth as noted by the "white stripe on from the forehead to the nose". A unimaginable discovery indeed, though us Humans weren't so sure. But we wen't along with it.
Hail Corgis. Oh yeah, instead of killing all of us, they simply traded our [knowledge of snacks](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/95/34/90953481135dfdd0e6ddbfa95dd15155.jpg) for their guidance on uplifting our civilization. Man's best friend indeed? | “This is…unsettling.” Commander Jessica Willow grimaced at the sight of the rudimentary message, which only showed up on their starships view screen as text. She rubbed her caramel hued chin gently as she went over the message, as if trying to find intricacies; a complex hidden meaning in the simple words.
“Be quiet…before they find you?” Lieutenant Nelson adjusted his circular glasses, “Of all the vaguest things you can send someone, “Before who finds us? Can we get a name? A general location?”
“Ha!” Lieutenant Commander Tamira Jones grinned, “Take it from you to be dissatisfied with the depth of a message from alien life translated into ENGLISH. Hey Dave give em some credit. I doubt we could even send them a friendly hi in their language.” She crossed her arms as she stood over him with a teasing disposition, even through her nervous state; she stood boldly, her arms crossed, coarse curly hair tied back, a grin on her face; Dave simply grimaced and kept his focus on the screen.
Commander Willow stared on intrigued, biting ever so gently on her thumb as she took the information in. Humanity was just starting to make progress in space exploration. Her first mission, the first mission to survey Jupiter and it’s moons with a fully staffed crew had just began to take hold. If it were a success, they would use their wormhole technology to go even further; take the first steps just beyond the solar system itself; the desire to find other worldly life, but it seemed that it had found them, and their first message was that of concern; she furrowed her dirty blondish brown eyebrows and thought,
“What do we do with this information?” she asked loudly to herself; Tamira and Dave faced her as she stared intensely at the message, “Take it as a threat, a warning; do we stay here? What do we do?”
“I say we do what we were sent here to do.” Tamira suggested.
“Wait for Command to get the message and go from there?” Jessica added, “That’s fair, but what’s concerning me is, we’re not sending any messages at this time; we’re just conducting survey’s; any messages that they might be talking about couldn’t be coming from us.”
“We as a planet have been sending messages for hundreds of years,” Dave interjected, “They might just be getting them now; be it the intended ones or unintended ones; for all we know they just got the first season of “I Love Lucy.”
Tamira smiled, “I love that show; ya seen it Jess?”
“Yea I have,” she managed a grin in her nervous state, “Then our problem is we can’t be quiet, we can’t shut it off; the waves are out there, extruding their ancient voices throughout the cosmos without direction or purpose, and according to our newly found text buddies; we’ve possibly made a grave mistake….does not bode well.”
“Aye Commander” Dave replied.
“Agreed” Tamira nodded, “What are your orders?” | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | It was too late. Years of radio broadcasts had reached just a fraction of the Milky Way but that was more than enough. In 2024, Earth was no more. Or at least, it was forever changed.
A message in 2016 warned the governments of the world that all broadcasts outside should be shut off. But the greatest discovery of all time, that there were aliens, only pushed humanity to accelerate their efforts by a thousand times. New sats were commissioned the very day the US announced it had received contact from outside. And by 2020, missions to Mars and Jupiter to construct relays were completed.
But for all our efforts, we only heard silence since 2016. Until 2024. At first we thought we were getting a new message. But then we realized the noise was from many objects approaching our solar system, and by then of course it was too late to turn off the relays. Some nations prepared for war. Other's argued that perhaps it was the ones who sent the messages. None of that mattered though as they came into orbit.
The first waves were recon units. We didn't know that until after we had lost. They landed by the thousands in concentrated places, deploying instantly into combat groups that overwhelmed whatever area they landed in. Then the portal storms came, forcing mass evacuations into major cities for protection purposes. It was only a matter of hours after overwhelming technology and invaders forced Earth to surrender.
All the world's leaders were gathered into the UN building in New York City. There they were given a quick speech as to why they were invaded and what would have normally happened. Normally, all life on the planet would be wiped out and the planet reconditioned for some other purpose. But during their invasion one thing changed their mind about wiping us out. It was a discovery they had made: Corgis.
An ancient bloodline of Corgis had settled Earth exiled from the invader's home quadrant during a period of civil war. Many millennia later however a rebellion restored the powers back to the more snackish side of the noble Corgis. But the search for the their exiled noble family of Corgis and Ein were in vain until now. It was clear that they had landed on Earth as noted by the "white stripe on from the forehead to the nose". A unimaginable discovery indeed, though us Humans weren't so sure. But we wen't along with it.
Hail Corgis. Oh yeah, instead of killing all of us, they simply traded our [knowledge of snacks](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/95/34/90953481135dfdd0e6ddbfa95dd15155.jpg) for their guidance on uplifting our civilization. Man's best friend indeed? | *Pulse detected in Quadrant S9-3.*
"Dash three?" Cole's supervisor shouted from across the room. He brought up the pulse on the main screen, which had hit their detection outpost just moments ago. The outpost, on the far side of the the dwarf planet in the system was carefully hidden and packed away. "That Terranova?"
"Yes, sir. Seems they got the probe right on top of us," Cole brought up an image of the latest probe design by the inhabitants of Terranova. It was a small probe, mostly shielded with a yellow substance with a large radar dish on it. Primitive, Cole knew, but most of the inhabitants of Nova were primitive. "It flew by approximately eight hours ago. The latest pulse just came from Earth, relaying information to it.
"Similar to the archived probes?"
"Yes, sir. Planetary explorations, but as long as they keep going, they're getting data."
"Damn humans," Cole's supervisor shrugged. He walked over and joined him at his terminal, "Tag it and bag it, per protocol. Send the Epsilon units, they're getting a little rusty in solitary."
"Yes, sir." Cole pressed a few buttons on his terminal. A moment or two passed before he received acknowledgement from the Epsilon unit and the mission acceptance. Epsilon units were some of the oldest and rarest of their kind, but they still handled retrieval missions relatively well. Before Cole could send the thumbs up back to his boss, an alert came up.
*Alert. This action by the inhabitants of Terranova places them into the 19th percentile. Protocol dictates Procedure 9-9-SOLUS must be put into effect.*
"SOLUS?" The supervisor shook his head and whistled, "Been a while since I've been at an outpost with an active SOLUS." He laughed and looked around the room, "Everybody should have been trained on this. If you haven't, raise your hands."
Cole and the few others running the skeleton crew at their outpost kept their hands down.
"Good. Reggy, I need you on surveillance, get our eyes on the planet's surface, full sweep. Dee, you've got military shutdown, keep their satellites and weapons contained to the surface. And Cole," he turned to him, "you get the honor of sending the message."
Cole smirked. SOLUS Procedure was clear and he had always dreamed of seeing it in action. Most of it was boring, but the main points of it had a kick to them.
He read the procedure's mission statement aloud, as per the instructions, "If at any point in time a sapient race passed the 20th percentile of technology, which was judged by the ThinkTank, they'd have to enter a mandatory-although that would be unknown to them-50-year isolation period. The period was to see how they would react with several factors active, the first and foremost being the knowledge that they are not alone in the galaxy, the second being that they would have to remain to themselves in fear of being destroyed, and the third knowing that an external factor was acting on them without being able to communicate with them.
"SOLUS is the utopian idea of introducing people into the Assembly. With constant surveillance and minimal communication, the ThinkTank will judge and deem the species' worthiness based on a 50-year trial." He nodded and looked to his supervisor.
"Read the message, then hit send," his supervisor took a sip from his mug where the words **BEST SUPERVISOR EVER** were written neatly on the front.
"Inhabitants of Terranova. You are not alone in this galaxy, but you do not understand it either. In order to survive, you must discontinue your quest for knowledge in the darkness of space. You must be quiet, or they will find you. They will come for you. Trust us. Please."
His supervisor laughed. "Boy do I love the ThinkTank."
Cole smiled and hit send. All they had to do now was sit back and watch the chaos. And from Cole's experience with the inhabitants of Terranova, there was sure to be plenty of chaos. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | It was too late. Years of radio broadcasts had reached just a fraction of the Milky Way but that was more than enough. In 2024, Earth was no more. Or at least, it was forever changed.
A message in 2016 warned the governments of the world that all broadcasts outside should be shut off. But the greatest discovery of all time, that there were aliens, only pushed humanity to accelerate their efforts by a thousand times. New sats were commissioned the very day the US announced it had received contact from outside. And by 2020, missions to Mars and Jupiter to construct relays were completed.
But for all our efforts, we only heard silence since 2016. Until 2024. At first we thought we were getting a new message. But then we realized the noise was from many objects approaching our solar system, and by then of course it was too late to turn off the relays. Some nations prepared for war. Other's argued that perhaps it was the ones who sent the messages. None of that mattered though as they came into orbit.
The first waves were recon units. We didn't know that until after we had lost. They landed by the thousands in concentrated places, deploying instantly into combat groups that overwhelmed whatever area they landed in. Then the portal storms came, forcing mass evacuations into major cities for protection purposes. It was only a matter of hours after overwhelming technology and invaders forced Earth to surrender.
All the world's leaders were gathered into the UN building in New York City. There they were given a quick speech as to why they were invaded and what would have normally happened. Normally, all life on the planet would be wiped out and the planet reconditioned for some other purpose. But during their invasion one thing changed their mind about wiping us out. It was a discovery they had made: Corgis.
An ancient bloodline of Corgis had settled Earth exiled from the invader's home quadrant during a period of civil war. Many millennia later however a rebellion restored the powers back to the more snackish side of the noble Corgis. But the search for the their exiled noble family of Corgis and Ein were in vain until now. It was clear that they had landed on Earth as noted by the "white stripe on from the forehead to the nose". A unimaginable discovery indeed, though us Humans weren't so sure. But we wen't along with it.
Hail Corgis. Oh yeah, instead of killing all of us, they simply traded our [knowledge of snacks](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/95/34/90953481135dfdd0e6ddbfa95dd15155.jpg) for their guidance on uplifting our civilization. Man's best friend indeed? | Dr. Brown wiped sweat from his neck before stepping on stage to begin his adress to the room full of world leaders sitting before him.
"The first message simply said: Be quiet before they find you. Before it could be decided wether to attempt a reply, other messages came. They came from every direction: Blips of lights, particle waves, changes in deep space radiation patterns, etc. Most could no be understood, but those that could were asking something akin to who?, where?. Then the universe seemed to go silent. Signals that were tought to be the natural background noise of space simply vanished."
"Now, we are assembled here today because we must choose wether to go silent as well or seize this chance to communicate with what is undoubtebly extra-terrestrial forms of intelligence."
Through the agitated murmurs of the crowd, an small elderly man stood up and gently tapped his microphone to get attention. With a tired voice, he said "now Mr ... Brown. I understand most of these messages ... we could not even understand their nature. We are at a technological disadvantage. Would it not be best to remain hidden from whatever is a threat even to more advanced civilisations?".
"I say let them come. Well' nuke them to dust!" yelled a large brush-haired man that looked like he belonged in a boot-camp.
The following roar of approval was abruptly broken by the sound of the room's intercom system. "Dr. Brown, we just received a new communication. It's a reply from the original senders" said the voice.
"Well, play it" replied Dr. Brown
"It's an image sir. I'll put it on the screen"
The large screen on the wall showed a strange arrangement of lines
Dr. Brown turned to the crowd and said, uneasily: "Are you gentlemen familiar with the inscriptions of the Golden record?"
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | It was too late. Years of radio broadcasts had reached just a fraction of the Milky Way but that was more than enough. In 2024, Earth was no more. Or at least, it was forever changed.
A message in 2016 warned the governments of the world that all broadcasts outside should be shut off. But the greatest discovery of all time, that there were aliens, only pushed humanity to accelerate their efforts by a thousand times. New sats were commissioned the very day the US announced it had received contact from outside. And by 2020, missions to Mars and Jupiter to construct relays were completed.
But for all our efforts, we only heard silence since 2016. Until 2024. At first we thought we were getting a new message. But then we realized the noise was from many objects approaching our solar system, and by then of course it was too late to turn off the relays. Some nations prepared for war. Other's argued that perhaps it was the ones who sent the messages. None of that mattered though as they came into orbit.
The first waves were recon units. We didn't know that until after we had lost. They landed by the thousands in concentrated places, deploying instantly into combat groups that overwhelmed whatever area they landed in. Then the portal storms came, forcing mass evacuations into major cities for protection purposes. It was only a matter of hours after overwhelming technology and invaders forced Earth to surrender.
All the world's leaders were gathered into the UN building in New York City. There they were given a quick speech as to why they were invaded and what would have normally happened. Normally, all life on the planet would be wiped out and the planet reconditioned for some other purpose. But during their invasion one thing changed their mind about wiping us out. It was a discovery they had made: Corgis.
An ancient bloodline of Corgis had settled Earth exiled from the invader's home quadrant during a period of civil war. Many millennia later however a rebellion restored the powers back to the more snackish side of the noble Corgis. But the search for the their exiled noble family of Corgis and Ein were in vain until now. It was clear that they had landed on Earth as noted by the "white stripe on from the forehead to the nose". A unimaginable discovery indeed, though us Humans weren't so sure. But we wen't along with it.
Hail Corgis. Oh yeah, instead of killing all of us, they simply traded our [knowledge of snacks](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/95/34/90953481135dfdd0e6ddbfa95dd15155.jpg) for their guidance on uplifting our civilization. Man's best friend indeed? | ''Ethan, John, Paul. Meeting room. Now." shouted my manager as she hurried towards the meeting room with one paper in hand and the other hand telling me to get up.
Last time this had happened was since the last terrorist attack 10 years ago when the largest airport in the country had been blown up. I scrambled for a large notebook as the urgency on her voice . My desk was a mess and could use a cleanup, the longer I took, the more panicked I was, 'where is it, dammit' i muttered. Looking around at the other two, the same thing was happening, piles of papers hitting the floor as the tables were swept in search of a notebook that either had lots of pages or was big. Mine was hidden in plain sight, just behind my monitor where I had put it, 10 years ago.
I walked hurried towards the meeting room like my manager. Inside the room sat the minister of defence, the head of FBI, my manager, interpol representatives and the presidents of the largest countries in the world. A few moments later, John and Paul entered.
''Ladies and Gentleman as you all know, for hundreds of years our race has been sending messages into space which included how our technology works, where we are located and much more, which is classified for some of you to know'' said our manager as she looked at me, John and Paul. She continued ''Also you should know that we haven't received a single message back by anyone, no country has, but no data has been retrieved by North Korea.'' she took a long break. ''However... This came into our hands this morning.'' the projector came to life and a series of numbers and known letters came up.
0042 0045
0071 0075 0069 0065 0074
0042 0045 0046 006F 0072 0065
0074 0068 0065 0079
0066 0069 006E 0064
0079 006F 0075
Some sort of message, encoded in some sort of way. I instantly entered a deep thought state where all of my functions other than controlling my hands and thinking were shut, in order to focus. All I could feel was my pen, no smell, no hearing and I could see shapes jumbled up, sorting themselves out, I jotted down what I saw.
''ETHAN GET TO WORK, STOP DRAWING, THIS IS SERIOUS'' shouted my manager as I wrote down the last things that flashed in my sight.
be
quiet
before
they
find
you
I was working ma'am, this is how I decode messages, this is what I think it says. "be quiet before they find you". It was encoded in ISO/IEC 8859-7, quite simple, but we have sent our encodings into space, I've done it ma'am so that if we ever die, someone knows what some of our encoding means, they may not have word to decode it for them you know.
''Who is they?'' said John and Paul together as if they were a synchronised swimming team.
''We don't know gentlemen but we cant risk anything, decisions have to be made and now'' she said in a very attacking tone. The room fell silent as if everyone was in deep thought, but clearly wasn't. The prime minister of England broke out, "We must stop all message deliveries to outer space immediately'', ''We should also inform the citizens of the planet immediately'' continued the President of the United States of America, ''they must know what is happening''. ''This probably isn't the best idea the people will be scared and may start a revolution, they will think their freedom is taken away from them but if something does happen, we'll be seen as traitors for not doing anything'' I said. ''Fucking Paradox man, what if we built a float...''
''Mr Fielding, we don't know who send this letter, us, or someone from out there, don't act like its nothing, there IS danger'' the manager interrupted, rightly so.
''OK, OK, its serious, blah, blah. We shall build a wall, what do you think?'' said Paul, who is known for not taking anything seriously and joking around stupidly.
Everyone looked at him astounded by how chilled he was in such a meeting, like he was talking to his friends on a game of D&D.
''I agree with all the stated points, we must close deliveries to outer space, all facilities will be closed and each citizen will be closely monitored in case they shoot a message out and if they do they'll be punished, do you agree gentlemen?''
''Yes'' said the whole room, except Paul, who said ''Why am I in here? This is probably fake anyways''. ''Your job Paul, is to come up with the monitoring system, you are the best coder here.'', ''and you'' added the manager pointing at John ''You are going to create a speech for each person in here, to inform the public of the situation, we know you can make it not seem as bad as some of us think'' she continued as she looked at Paul
''Then we have a deal, you three are dismissed'' Said my manager as she pointed at me, John and Paul. ''The rest of us have some talking to do''.
We got up and walked outside, me and John were dumbfounded by Paul's lack of caring so we decided to talk to him.
''Guys, I need to tell you something''
''What'' we asked.
''Come to my house tonight and I'll explain everything''
The hours in the office couldn't pass, John was trying to make up a speech, scrapping every idea so far by throwing into his bin, which was starting to overfill. Paul seemed busy typing in assembly language as he was the only one left that knew how it worked, that is if he hasn't send a message outside saying how it works.
Five hours later I was home, took a shower, ate and relaxed for a bit so that time could pass, Paul always wanted to meet at midnight, from day one. 20 minutes before midnight I headed to Paul's where he was waiting on the door. ''Come in, quickly'' he whispered, ''John is already here''.
The house is the exact same way as I remembered it, clean but kind of messy, nothing had changed, except John was here.
''Whats the matter'' I asked.
''Sit down and I'll tell you''. I walked to the couch and sat next to John.
''I send the letter, I know something that nobody else does, except for assembly''
''What do you mean'' we both asked.
''Wait here'' he said as he walked off towards his kitchen.
''Why did you turn off the lights'' I questioned.
''You'll see and keep your voice down''
''What is he doing'' I whispered to John
''I don't know, just stick with it'' he whispered back.
Suddenly me and John started levitating off the couch, yet it felt like I was still sitting on something and my feet were quite certainly touching something else. We passed through many floors and flew into the night sky, we came out above the clouds and then outside the Earth's atmosphere, the ISS passed above us as we continued towards the moon.
''Guys, I send the letter, I did it to save everyone, but it was seen today, I sent it a month ago, they do know where you are and they are coming, as we are talking your houses are being changed up a bit, press the button underneath the sink and what I just did will happen to your house.''
Me and John looked at each other dumbfounded, we had no idea what was happening.
''I have been interpreting SETI data and found one special signal, a weird clipping wave and decided to check it out, I talked to the things and realised that they are trying to destroy the universe until their solar system is the only one left, their galaxy is already gone, they are just a solar system now''
''So, everyone is going to die'' said John rather defensively.
''You're going to be fine, do what has been accepted, the program is finished, you are going to be alright.''
''You are not helping Paul, what is happening? What do you mean? When ar'' I said stuttering as I was afraid.
''Good bye, we'll meet again''
Me and John were suddenly at Paul's house, only Paul was not here.
--
If you liked this hop over to /r/cookiez_fort I have some other stuff aswell. Critisism is welcomed. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | Dawn. The sun's shine creeps from behind the mountains and gusts of wind kisses the snow topped layer. Witnessing this event from his office balcony, with a cup of freshly brewed earl grey tea, Irvin listens to his recorded voice reminding him of the day's agenda. Taking a sip he pauses when the last task is spoken,
"Irvin, this is important. Check with Tim and his findings."
Irvin turns and places his mug on his desk and sits down to contact his colleague Tim. He opens his IRC screen and sends a private message to Tim.
"Hey Tim, was there something you wanted to show me today? Also when's the next time we could take a hiking trip?"
Irvin reaches for his tea as there's an immediate response on the screen.
"Irvin….I've got some news that needs to be shared. But I think you should hear of it first."
"What did you find this time?"
"It's not a matter of what I found so much as in WHO has found us."
"What do you mean?"
"Meet me in an hour. Location J-X."
Irvin stared at his screen. Irvin and Tim have been friends for years and they have long stopped giving specific names when wanting to meet up. Tim, even with his 'secure setup,' isn't exactly the most open person when not speaking face to face. Irvin knew from this particular location that what Tim had was not something of the ordinary. Tim sends another message.
"Irvin, leave you cell at home, and don't drive, take your bike."
"Ok, one hour."
Irvin ends the message and takes the next hour to prepare for the meeting.
Arriving exactly an hour later, Tim notices Irvin through the window of Location J-X. A quick wave is exchanged between the two and Irvin locks his bike near a the entrance. Tim calls out for another cup of coffee as Irvin sits down with his backpack to the side of his chair.
"Were you followed," Tim asks.
"Tim, calm down. I'm not in that business anymore. What is it you wanted?"
"Wait," Tim crosses his arms as coffee is served to the table. Tim leans forward, "Irvin, I found something big, huge! But not just that, something or someone has found us."
Irving leans forward, "Explain." Tim places his tablet device on the table.
"Remember I told you that if I went on the deep end one more time for you to commit me to an institution?"
"Yeah…"
"Well forget about all that and look at this," Tim slides the tablet to Irvin's end of the table. While most of the text looks like gibberish, Irvin is able to at least recognize the origin of the document.
"Tim, please for the love of your sanity you have to stop stealing documents like this. You ever think someone could trace back to you and have you arrested or more? You ever stop to think that there is a reason why certain things are kept secret?"
"But Irvin, I-"
"No Tim, this is too far and there is only so much I can do to help-," just as Irvin was about to finish a news broadcast grew louder in the background. A bearded news anchor is seen speaking with an unkempt tie.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. A spokesperson from the government is to make an emergency announcement briefly. We are not told what this could be about, but we were given instructions to tell all citizens to not leave there homes until further notice. If you are away from home, please return immediately. Law enforcement has been notified and will be patrolling the streets to ensure people are evacuated from public spaces and return safely to their respective dwellings. I repeat-."
Irvin and Tim slowly glance at each other just as an officer on horseback bangs on the window and gives muffled shouts to vacate. They gather their things and immediate go outside. As Tim reaches the curb, his tablet pings a notice. Irvin has already unlocked his bike and is speaking with the officer asking for information. Tim hurriedly scrolls through and quickly scanning the text whizzing upwards on the screen. He stops at a certain point with the slight sight of fear channeling through him. He stutters to call out to his friend.
"I-Irvin. Irvin!"
Irvin turns from the officer, rushes to Tim's side and is present with the dim screen of the tablet. "Irvin, that spokesperson is not going to tell the truth. I think it is already too late for us. He will give orders of martial law when it was too late from the start. Why has it come to this?"
"Too late for what? What do you mean. I don't even understand this message that your showing me."
"Irvin, for years we have been sending signals out into space hoping to contact someone or something, you know this."
"Of course," Irvin retorts.
"Well, it finally happened. Except that, well it seems that more than one someone has already heard our message." Tim places a hand on Irvin's shoulder and looks him straight in the eyes sternly. "This message is a warning for us to stop sending out signals."
| For a long time human desires contact with alien. Today, we receive the first ever message from outer space. The world was in joy and celebration, 158 years after the last war end and humanity cooperate for the greater good, we finally know that we are not alone.
Outside the street the people were celebrating, in the headquarter of United Nation Space Agency (UNSA) however, everyone was panicking. The message was carefully encrypted and yet, our computer solved them in matter of minutes, just like it was designed so that we can easily read it but other can't. To make matter worse, the message was disturbing: "Be quiet before they find you"
What could this message mean by they? What can scare an advance civilization so bad that they have to encrypt their message a special way so that only us can read it? Soon the UN council was given this information. Debate broke out whether or not we should continue to send messages or shut the program down and preparing for what is coming. After a special 10 days meeting, they agree on sending another message at the origin of our reply asking for information they have, while also restarting all weapon development program and place Earth on high alert. That night, in the asteroid belt of Saturn, a giant object was moving toward Earth, unnoticed by anyone. Slowly but surely, it will come. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Idiots!" Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an "alien mega structure" had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a "type a21" prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. "Be quiet before they find you." Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded. | For a long time human desires contact with alien. Today, we receive the first ever message from outer space. The world was in joy and celebration, 158 years after the last war end and humanity cooperate for the greater good, we finally know that we are not alone.
Outside the street the people were celebrating, in the headquarter of United Nation Space Agency (UNSA) however, everyone was panicking. The message was carefully encrypted and yet, our computer solved them in matter of minutes, just like it was designed so that we can easily read it but other can't. To make matter worse, the message was disturbing: "Be quiet before they find you"
What could this message mean by they? What can scare an advance civilization so bad that they have to encrypt their message a special way so that only us can read it? Soon the UN council was given this information. Debate broke out whether or not we should continue to send messages or shut the program down and preparing for what is coming. After a special 10 days meeting, they agree on sending another message at the origin of our reply asking for information they have, while also restarting all weapon development program and place Earth on high alert. That night, in the asteroid belt of Saturn, a giant object was moving toward Earth, unnoticed by anyone. Slowly but surely, it will come. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | Ralph had been doing the exact same routine for years. He could hardly complain since it gave him a stable income and allowed him to support his worsening smoking addiction. Today was another night in the observatory. This night Ethan and Steve had decided to take leave to go watch the new ‘Aliens vs Predators : Fight to the Death’. Not wanting to intentionally fill his head with mindless drivel, he opted to work this night alone without the two of them. To be honest, he preferred the silence.
He lazily made his way over to the giant supercomputer in the middle of the room and proceeded to send out a cacophony of radio waves into the night sky. Each night the machine beamed information to different areas in the vast abyss above. It started it’s gentle humming which was a queue for Ralph to start his smoking break. He took a long inhale as his mind wandered to the countless nuisances in his life, his bills were due, no food in the fridge, his rather tense and non communicative relationship with his wife. With a deep exhale, he eased into his troubles and slowly felt them fade…
It took him a good minute before he realised that the screen behind him was flashing a deep crimson red announcing that a message had been received. He dropped his cigarette and ran over to the keyboard. With a flurry of typing, he opened a console that decoded the message.
“Be quiet before they find you”.
He looked at the message with a mix of apprehension and slight excitement. It was followed by another similar message.
“Too late. Run.”
He sat in silence for a moment contemplating not only the eery and supernatural conclusions that the mind jumps to, but also the fact that there appeared to be intelligent life beyond that of earth.
Were there really Aliens? What are they afraid of? Is this the end of humanity? His mind spun with endless possibilities, most of them hinting at a lethal outcome where earth was finally invaded by Aliens. He tried to search the vaults in his brain for what to do in a situation like this. Mostly their day to day job was monitoring for asteroids and other large unexpected objects that could collide with earth. Transmitting messages into space was just a dumb idea that Steve had concocted one evening. His training hadn’t really covered the highly unlikely possibility of receiving a message back, let alone one that was this urgent.
His brief reverie was disrupted by an alert on his phone.
“lol got you- Steve”
Fucker. He sighed and walked back to pick up his half burnt out cigarette and drifted back into a semi-conscious dream state, thinking about what to have for dinner later.
| For a long time human desires contact with alien. Today, we receive the first ever message from outer space. The world was in joy and celebration, 158 years after the last war end and humanity cooperate for the greater good, we finally know that we are not alone.
Outside the street the people were celebrating, in the headquarter of United Nation Space Agency (UNSA) however, everyone was panicking. The message was carefully encrypted and yet, our computer solved them in matter of minutes, just like it was designed so that we can easily read it but other can't. To make matter worse, the message was disturbing: "Be quiet before they find you"
What could this message mean by they? What can scare an advance civilization so bad that they have to encrypt their message a special way so that only us can read it? Soon the UN council was given this information. Debate broke out whether or not we should continue to send messages or shut the program down and preparing for what is coming. After a special 10 days meeting, they agree on sending another message at the origin of our reply asking for information they have, while also restarting all weapon development program and place Earth on high alert. That night, in the asteroid belt of Saturn, a giant object was moving toward Earth, unnoticed by anyone. Slowly but surely, it will come. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| For a long time human desires contact with alien. Today, we receive the first ever message from outer space. The world was in joy and celebration, 158 years after the last war end and humanity cooperate for the greater good, we finally know that we are not alone.
Outside the street the people were celebrating, in the headquarter of United Nation Space Agency (UNSA) however, everyone was panicking. The message was carefully encrypted and yet, our computer solved them in matter of minutes, just like it was designed so that we can easily read it but other can't. To make matter worse, the message was disturbing: "Be quiet before they find you"
What could this message mean by they? What can scare an advance civilization so bad that they have to encrypt their message a special way so that only us can read it? Soon the UN council was given this information. Debate broke out whether or not we should continue to send messages or shut the program down and preparing for what is coming. After a special 10 days meeting, they agree on sending another message at the origin of our reply asking for information they have, while also restarting all weapon development program and place Earth on high alert. That night, in the asteroid belt of Saturn, a giant object was moving toward Earth, unnoticed by anyone. Slowly but surely, it will come. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | For a long time human desires contact with alien. Today, we receive the first ever message from outer space. The world was in joy and celebration, 158 years after the last war end and humanity cooperate for the greater good, we finally know that we are not alone.
Outside the street the people were celebrating, in the headquarter of United Nation Space Agency (UNSA) however, everyone was panicking. The message was carefully encrypted and yet, our computer solved them in matter of minutes, just like it was designed so that we can easily read it but other can't. To make matter worse, the message was disturbing: "Be quiet before they find you"
What could this message mean by they? What can scare an advance civilization so bad that they have to encrypt their message a special way so that only us can read it? Soon the UN council was given this information. Debate broke out whether or not we should continue to send messages or shut the program down and preparing for what is coming. After a special 10 days meeting, they agree on sending another message at the origin of our reply asking for information they have, while also restarting all weapon development program and place Earth on high alert. That night, in the asteroid belt of Saturn, a giant object was moving toward Earth, unnoticed by anyone. Slowly but surely, it will come. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | Ralph had been doing the exact same routine for years. He could hardly complain since it gave him a stable income and allowed him to support his worsening smoking addiction. Today was another night in the observatory. This night Ethan and Steve had decided to take leave to go watch the new ‘Aliens vs Predators : Fight to the Death’. Not wanting to intentionally fill his head with mindless drivel, he opted to work this night alone without the two of them. To be honest, he preferred the silence.
He lazily made his way over to the giant supercomputer in the middle of the room and proceeded to send out a cacophony of radio waves into the night sky. Each night the machine beamed information to different areas in the vast abyss above. It started it’s gentle humming which was a queue for Ralph to start his smoking break. He took a long inhale as his mind wandered to the countless nuisances in his life, his bills were due, no food in the fridge, his rather tense and non communicative relationship with his wife. With a deep exhale, he eased into his troubles and slowly felt them fade…
It took him a good minute before he realised that the screen behind him was flashing a deep crimson red announcing that a message had been received. He dropped his cigarette and ran over to the keyboard. With a flurry of typing, he opened a console that decoded the message.
“Be quiet before they find you”.
He looked at the message with a mix of apprehension and slight excitement. It was followed by another similar message.
“Too late. Run.”
He sat in silence for a moment contemplating not only the eery and supernatural conclusions that the mind jumps to, but also the fact that there appeared to be intelligent life beyond that of earth.
Were there really Aliens? What are they afraid of? Is this the end of humanity? His mind spun with endless possibilities, most of them hinting at a lethal outcome where earth was finally invaded by Aliens. He tried to search the vaults in his brain for what to do in a situation like this. Mostly their day to day job was monitoring for asteroids and other large unexpected objects that could collide with earth. Transmitting messages into space was just a dumb idea that Steve had concocted one evening. His training hadn’t really covered the highly unlikely possibility of receiving a message back, let alone one that was this urgent.
His brief reverie was disrupted by an alert on his phone.
“lol got you- Steve”
Fucker. He sighed and walked back to pick up his half burnt out cigarette and drifted back into a semi-conscious dream state, thinking about what to have for dinner later.
| Dawn. The sun's shine creeps from behind the mountains and gusts of wind kisses the snow topped layer. Witnessing this event from his office balcony, with a cup of freshly brewed earl grey tea, Irvin listens to his recorded voice reminding him of the day's agenda. Taking a sip he pauses when the last task is spoken,
"Irvin, this is important. Check with Tim and his findings."
Irvin turns and places his mug on his desk and sits down to contact his colleague Tim. He opens his IRC screen and sends a private message to Tim.
"Hey Tim, was there something you wanted to show me today? Also when's the next time we could take a hiking trip?"
Irvin reaches for his tea as there's an immediate response on the screen.
"Irvin….I've got some news that needs to be shared. But I think you should hear of it first."
"What did you find this time?"
"It's not a matter of what I found so much as in WHO has found us."
"What do you mean?"
"Meet me in an hour. Location J-X."
Irvin stared at his screen. Irvin and Tim have been friends for years and they have long stopped giving specific names when wanting to meet up. Tim, even with his 'secure setup,' isn't exactly the most open person when not speaking face to face. Irvin knew from this particular location that what Tim had was not something of the ordinary. Tim sends another message.
"Irvin, leave you cell at home, and don't drive, take your bike."
"Ok, one hour."
Irvin ends the message and takes the next hour to prepare for the meeting.
Arriving exactly an hour later, Tim notices Irvin through the window of Location J-X. A quick wave is exchanged between the two and Irvin locks his bike near a the entrance. Tim calls out for another cup of coffee as Irvin sits down with his backpack to the side of his chair.
"Were you followed," Tim asks.
"Tim, calm down. I'm not in that business anymore. What is it you wanted?"
"Wait," Tim crosses his arms as coffee is served to the table. Tim leans forward, "Irvin, I found something big, huge! But not just that, something or someone has found us."
Irving leans forward, "Explain." Tim places his tablet device on the table.
"Remember I told you that if I went on the deep end one more time for you to commit me to an institution?"
"Yeah…"
"Well forget about all that and look at this," Tim slides the tablet to Irvin's end of the table. While most of the text looks like gibberish, Irvin is able to at least recognize the origin of the document.
"Tim, please for the love of your sanity you have to stop stealing documents like this. You ever think someone could trace back to you and have you arrested or more? You ever stop to think that there is a reason why certain things are kept secret?"
"But Irvin, I-"
"No Tim, this is too far and there is only so much I can do to help-," just as Irvin was about to finish a news broadcast grew louder in the background. A bearded news anchor is seen speaking with an unkempt tie.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. A spokesperson from the government is to make an emergency announcement briefly. We are not told what this could be about, but we were given instructions to tell all citizens to not leave there homes until further notice. If you are away from home, please return immediately. Law enforcement has been notified and will be patrolling the streets to ensure people are evacuated from public spaces and return safely to their respective dwellings. I repeat-."
Irvin and Tim slowly glance at each other just as an officer on horseback bangs on the window and gives muffled shouts to vacate. They gather their things and immediate go outside. As Tim reaches the curb, his tablet pings a notice. Irvin has already unlocked his bike and is speaking with the officer asking for information. Tim hurriedly scrolls through and quickly scanning the text whizzing upwards on the screen. He stops at a certain point with the slight sight of fear channeling through him. He stutters to call out to his friend.
"I-Irvin. Irvin!"
Irvin turns from the officer, rushes to Tim's side and is present with the dim screen of the tablet. "Irvin, that spokesperson is not going to tell the truth. I think it is already too late for us. He will give orders of martial law when it was too late from the start. Why has it come to this?"
"Too late for what? What do you mean. I don't even understand this message that your showing me."
"Irvin, for years we have been sending signals out into space hoping to contact someone or something, you know this."
"Of course," Irvin retorts.
"Well, it finally happened. Except that, well it seems that more than one someone has already heard our message." Tim places a hand on Irvin's shoulder and looks him straight in the eyes sternly. "This message is a warning for us to stop sending out signals."
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| Dawn. The sun's shine creeps from behind the mountains and gusts of wind kisses the snow topped layer. Witnessing this event from his office balcony, with a cup of freshly brewed earl grey tea, Irvin listens to his recorded voice reminding him of the day's agenda. Taking a sip he pauses when the last task is spoken,
"Irvin, this is important. Check with Tim and his findings."
Irvin turns and places his mug on his desk and sits down to contact his colleague Tim. He opens his IRC screen and sends a private message to Tim.
"Hey Tim, was there something you wanted to show me today? Also when's the next time we could take a hiking trip?"
Irvin reaches for his tea as there's an immediate response on the screen.
"Irvin….I've got some news that needs to be shared. But I think you should hear of it first."
"What did you find this time?"
"It's not a matter of what I found so much as in WHO has found us."
"What do you mean?"
"Meet me in an hour. Location J-X."
Irvin stared at his screen. Irvin and Tim have been friends for years and they have long stopped giving specific names when wanting to meet up. Tim, even with his 'secure setup,' isn't exactly the most open person when not speaking face to face. Irvin knew from this particular location that what Tim had was not something of the ordinary. Tim sends another message.
"Irvin, leave you cell at home, and don't drive, take your bike."
"Ok, one hour."
Irvin ends the message and takes the next hour to prepare for the meeting.
Arriving exactly an hour later, Tim notices Irvin through the window of Location J-X. A quick wave is exchanged between the two and Irvin locks his bike near a the entrance. Tim calls out for another cup of coffee as Irvin sits down with his backpack to the side of his chair.
"Were you followed," Tim asks.
"Tim, calm down. I'm not in that business anymore. What is it you wanted?"
"Wait," Tim crosses his arms as coffee is served to the table. Tim leans forward, "Irvin, I found something big, huge! But not just that, something or someone has found us."
Irving leans forward, "Explain." Tim places his tablet device on the table.
"Remember I told you that if I went on the deep end one more time for you to commit me to an institution?"
"Yeah…"
"Well forget about all that and look at this," Tim slides the tablet to Irvin's end of the table. While most of the text looks like gibberish, Irvin is able to at least recognize the origin of the document.
"Tim, please for the love of your sanity you have to stop stealing documents like this. You ever think someone could trace back to you and have you arrested or more? You ever stop to think that there is a reason why certain things are kept secret?"
"But Irvin, I-"
"No Tim, this is too far and there is only so much I can do to help-," just as Irvin was about to finish a news broadcast grew louder in the background. A bearded news anchor is seen speaking with an unkempt tie.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. A spokesperson from the government is to make an emergency announcement briefly. We are not told what this could be about, but we were given instructions to tell all citizens to not leave there homes until further notice. If you are away from home, please return immediately. Law enforcement has been notified and will be patrolling the streets to ensure people are evacuated from public spaces and return safely to their respective dwellings. I repeat-."
Irvin and Tim slowly glance at each other just as an officer on horseback bangs on the window and gives muffled shouts to vacate. They gather their things and immediate go outside. As Tim reaches the curb, his tablet pings a notice. Irvin has already unlocked his bike and is speaking with the officer asking for information. Tim hurriedly scrolls through and quickly scanning the text whizzing upwards on the screen. He stops at a certain point with the slight sight of fear channeling through him. He stutters to call out to his friend.
"I-Irvin. Irvin!"
Irvin turns from the officer, rushes to Tim's side and is present with the dim screen of the tablet. "Irvin, that spokesperson is not going to tell the truth. I think it is already too late for us. He will give orders of martial law when it was too late from the start. Why has it come to this?"
"Too late for what? What do you mean. I don't even understand this message that your showing me."
"Irvin, for years we have been sending signals out into space hoping to contact someone or something, you know this."
"Of course," Irvin retorts.
"Well, it finally happened. Except that, well it seems that more than one someone has already heard our message." Tim places a hand on Irvin's shoulder and looks him straight in the eyes sternly. "This message is a warning for us to stop sending out signals."
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | Dawn. The sun's shine creeps from behind the mountains and gusts of wind kisses the snow topped layer. Witnessing this event from his office balcony, with a cup of freshly brewed earl grey tea, Irvin listens to his recorded voice reminding him of the day's agenda. Taking a sip he pauses when the last task is spoken,
"Irvin, this is important. Check with Tim and his findings."
Irvin turns and places his mug on his desk and sits down to contact his colleague Tim. He opens his IRC screen and sends a private message to Tim.
"Hey Tim, was there something you wanted to show me today? Also when's the next time we could take a hiking trip?"
Irvin reaches for his tea as there's an immediate response on the screen.
"Irvin….I've got some news that needs to be shared. But I think you should hear of it first."
"What did you find this time?"
"It's not a matter of what I found so much as in WHO has found us."
"What do you mean?"
"Meet me in an hour. Location J-X."
Irvin stared at his screen. Irvin and Tim have been friends for years and they have long stopped giving specific names when wanting to meet up. Tim, even with his 'secure setup,' isn't exactly the most open person when not speaking face to face. Irvin knew from this particular location that what Tim had was not something of the ordinary. Tim sends another message.
"Irvin, leave you cell at home, and don't drive, take your bike."
"Ok, one hour."
Irvin ends the message and takes the next hour to prepare for the meeting.
Arriving exactly an hour later, Tim notices Irvin through the window of Location J-X. A quick wave is exchanged between the two and Irvin locks his bike near a the entrance. Tim calls out for another cup of coffee as Irvin sits down with his backpack to the side of his chair.
"Were you followed," Tim asks.
"Tim, calm down. I'm not in that business anymore. What is it you wanted?"
"Wait," Tim crosses his arms as coffee is served to the table. Tim leans forward, "Irvin, I found something big, huge! But not just that, something or someone has found us."
Irving leans forward, "Explain." Tim places his tablet device on the table.
"Remember I told you that if I went on the deep end one more time for you to commit me to an institution?"
"Yeah…"
"Well forget about all that and look at this," Tim slides the tablet to Irvin's end of the table. While most of the text looks like gibberish, Irvin is able to at least recognize the origin of the document.
"Tim, please for the love of your sanity you have to stop stealing documents like this. You ever think someone could trace back to you and have you arrested or more? You ever stop to think that there is a reason why certain things are kept secret?"
"But Irvin, I-"
"No Tim, this is too far and there is only so much I can do to help-," just as Irvin was about to finish a news broadcast grew louder in the background. A bearded news anchor is seen speaking with an unkempt tie.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. A spokesperson from the government is to make an emergency announcement briefly. We are not told what this could be about, but we were given instructions to tell all citizens to not leave there homes until further notice. If you are away from home, please return immediately. Law enforcement has been notified and will be patrolling the streets to ensure people are evacuated from public spaces and return safely to their respective dwellings. I repeat-."
Irvin and Tim slowly glance at each other just as an officer on horseback bangs on the window and gives muffled shouts to vacate. They gather their things and immediate go outside. As Tim reaches the curb, his tablet pings a notice. Irvin has already unlocked his bike and is speaking with the officer asking for information. Tim hurriedly scrolls through and quickly scanning the text whizzing upwards on the screen. He stops at a certain point with the slight sight of fear channeling through him. He stutters to call out to his friend.
"I-Irvin. Irvin!"
Irvin turns from the officer, rushes to Tim's side and is present with the dim screen of the tablet. "Irvin, that spokesperson is not going to tell the truth. I think it is already too late for us. He will give orders of martial law when it was too late from the start. Why has it come to this?"
"Too late for what? What do you mean. I don't even understand this message that your showing me."
"Irvin, for years we have been sending signals out into space hoping to contact someone or something, you know this."
"Of course," Irvin retorts.
"Well, it finally happened. Except that, well it seems that more than one someone has already heard our message." Tim places a hand on Irvin's shoulder and looks him straight in the eyes sternly. "This message is a warning for us to stop sending out signals."
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | Ralph had been doing the exact same routine for years. He could hardly complain since it gave him a stable income and allowed him to support his worsening smoking addiction. Today was another night in the observatory. This night Ethan and Steve had decided to take leave to go watch the new ‘Aliens vs Predators : Fight to the Death’. Not wanting to intentionally fill his head with mindless drivel, he opted to work this night alone without the two of them. To be honest, he preferred the silence.
He lazily made his way over to the giant supercomputer in the middle of the room and proceeded to send out a cacophony of radio waves into the night sky. Each night the machine beamed information to different areas in the vast abyss above. It started it’s gentle humming which was a queue for Ralph to start his smoking break. He took a long inhale as his mind wandered to the countless nuisances in his life, his bills were due, no food in the fridge, his rather tense and non communicative relationship with his wife. With a deep exhale, he eased into his troubles and slowly felt them fade…
It took him a good minute before he realised that the screen behind him was flashing a deep crimson red announcing that a message had been received. He dropped his cigarette and ran over to the keyboard. With a flurry of typing, he opened a console that decoded the message.
“Be quiet before they find you”.
He looked at the message with a mix of apprehension and slight excitement. It was followed by another similar message.
“Too late. Run.”
He sat in silence for a moment contemplating not only the eery and supernatural conclusions that the mind jumps to, but also the fact that there appeared to be intelligent life beyond that of earth.
Were there really Aliens? What are they afraid of? Is this the end of humanity? His mind spun with endless possibilities, most of them hinting at a lethal outcome where earth was finally invaded by Aliens. He tried to search the vaults in his brain for what to do in a situation like this. Mostly their day to day job was monitoring for asteroids and other large unexpected objects that could collide with earth. Transmitting messages into space was just a dumb idea that Steve had concocted one evening. His training hadn’t really covered the highly unlikely possibility of receiving a message back, let alone one that was this urgent.
His brief reverie was disrupted by an alert on his phone.
“lol got you- Steve”
Fucker. He sighed and walked back to pick up his half burnt out cigarette and drifted back into a semi-conscious dream state, thinking about what to have for dinner later.
| "Idiots!" Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an "alien mega structure" had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a "type a21" prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. "Be quiet before they find you." Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| "Idiots!" Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an "alien mega structure" had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a "type a21" prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. "Be quiet before they find you." Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | "Idiots!" Zebin exclaimed as he received yet one more channel of communication from the Earth. Twenty years ago, the ambivalence over whether KIC 8462852 was in actuality an "alien mega structure" had finally come to an end after nearly 200 years of joint scientific endeavour by the leading lieges of the Earth. Since then, humanity had been trying with fervor to try and communicate with the star classified as a Dyson Sphere around 1480 light years away hoping that the far advanced civilisation might be generous enough to show the earthlings a way to solve their own energy crisis.
Zebin had only spent 11 years on earth after his birth during which he was classified as a "type a21" prodigy. This meant he had to spend the rest of his life on one of the earth's artificial satellites leading a team of scientists discovering ever new methods of far-reaching communications and building and deploying systems of carrying them out.
Zebin's genius was only surpassed by his paranoia. He was convinced that the Earthlings were only inviting trouble by contacting the distant alien civilisation and was determined to stop it at all costs. At the push of a button, Zebin sent back a message to one of the receiving stations back on Earth which he had painstakingly forged to look alien in origin and easy enough for the dimwits there to decode. "Be quiet before they find you." Now all he had to do was wait and watch if his ploy had succeeded. | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | Ralph had been doing the exact same routine for years. He could hardly complain since it gave him a stable income and allowed him to support his worsening smoking addiction. Today was another night in the observatory. This night Ethan and Steve had decided to take leave to go watch the new ‘Aliens vs Predators : Fight to the Death’. Not wanting to intentionally fill his head with mindless drivel, he opted to work this night alone without the two of them. To be honest, he preferred the silence.
He lazily made his way over to the giant supercomputer in the middle of the room and proceeded to send out a cacophony of radio waves into the night sky. Each night the machine beamed information to different areas in the vast abyss above. It started it’s gentle humming which was a queue for Ralph to start his smoking break. He took a long inhale as his mind wandered to the countless nuisances in his life, his bills were due, no food in the fridge, his rather tense and non communicative relationship with his wife. With a deep exhale, he eased into his troubles and slowly felt them fade…
It took him a good minute before he realised that the screen behind him was flashing a deep crimson red announcing that a message had been received. He dropped his cigarette and ran over to the keyboard. With a flurry of typing, he opened a console that decoded the message.
“Be quiet before they find you”.
He looked at the message with a mix of apprehension and slight excitement. It was followed by another similar message.
“Too late. Run.”
He sat in silence for a moment contemplating not only the eery and supernatural conclusions that the mind jumps to, but also the fact that there appeared to be intelligent life beyond that of earth.
Were there really Aliens? What are they afraid of? Is this the end of humanity? His mind spun with endless possibilities, most of them hinting at a lethal outcome where earth was finally invaded by Aliens. He tried to search the vaults in his brain for what to do in a situation like this. Mostly their day to day job was monitoring for asteroids and other large unexpected objects that could collide with earth. Transmitting messages into space was just a dumb idea that Steve had concocted one evening. His training hadn’t really covered the highly unlikely possibility of receiving a message back, let alone one that was this urgent.
His brief reverie was disrupted by an alert on his phone.
“lol got you- Steve”
Fucker. He sighed and walked back to pick up his half burnt out cigarette and drifted back into a semi-conscious dream state, thinking about what to have for dinner later.
| “Hey, did y’all hear the news about the alien message?” Henry asked as he sat down with his meal.
The others at the table just stared at him, not wanting to take a break from eating their meals. Undeterred, Henry continued, “I mean, it’s crazy, right?”
“Yeah, real crazy, Henry,” came a reply from down the table.
“Oh come on, y’all must be at least a bit excited to hear that there are aliens somewhere out there.”
The woman sitting across from him paused from devouring her rations to stare at him. “Henry, nobody cares about what the aliens say. So shut up and eat.”
Henry leaned back over the edge of the bench, and feigned insult. “Why, am I the only one who wants to see some action here? Come on, you know what the message said, right?” The rest of the table ignored him. “’Be quiet before they find you’? That’s some science-fiction level shit right there. I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to meeting these fellas. ‘Cause they sure as hell wouldn’t expect to be greeted by us, right?”
The woman looked up at him again. “Dude, eat your food. I don’t want to hear you complain about how hungry you are my entire shift.”
“Oh, come on, Valerie,” Henry shot back, leaning forward onto the metal table. “Don’t you think a battle with aliens would be a nice change of pace?” He turned to shout down to the rest of the disinterested table. “I mean, they probably are expecting rifles and airplanes, not railguns and the Styx.”
A chuckle came from beside him. “While I do think you should shut up and eat, yeah, I’d like to see them try and get past us.”
Henry, finally validated, slapped the back of the man who spoke. “That’s right, Dave.” He leaned back to shout across the cafeteria. “‘Cross the Styx, and end up in Hades’, right?” Hearing the mantra of their craft, some of the crew gave a half-hearted shout before going back to their meals. “See, they get it,” Henry said with a smirk on his face.
Dave finished choking on the food he had swallowed wrong when Henry hit him and replied, “Yeah, *cough* that’s great, man.”
That was good enough for Henry, who finally paused long enough to eat some of his meal. The crew around him quickly finished up their own meals, becoming involved in their own conversations. Only a handful of them noticed the tremor that ran down the length of the ship, and even fewer thought anything of it. But the blaring of alarms, then sudden silence, caught everyone’s attention. There was no time to react though, as the room slid sideways, out from underneath them.
Valerie was the first to try to pull herself to her feet. To her surprise, she rapidly realized that this was impossible. Her sense of direction was gone entirely, and she was afloat in the middle of the room. Glancing around, she saw her fellow crewmates in similar predicaments. Taking a deep breath, she fell back on instinct, awkwardly trying to swim through the air around her.
Someone cried out for help at the end of the room. But in the low light, she couldn’t quite see where they were. Hoping that someone else was close enough to assist, she continued pushing herself towards the cafeteria door with the rest of the crew, and out into the main passage. As she emerged into the large hallway, she began to notice the people around her. Some of her crewmates were injured, blood pooling in little spheres. She saw other crewmembers were rapidly pushing towards the back of the ship. Looking, she saw why. Large, airtight bulkheads had slammed closed, with flashing lights warning of the vacuum on the other side.
Valerie paused for a moment to get her bearings. She briefly checked herself for injuries, but found none. Satisfied, she pulled herself along the wall, focused on getting to her emergency station. Coming up to it, though, she saw that it was a pointless effort. The weapons station she was assigned to was completely dead, with not a single light coming from the control displays. Others were emerging from the room now, and she caught sight of a friend of hers.
“Hannah, over here!” she shouted. Hannah turned to see her, and gave a small wave, careful not to through herself off balance.
“Val, what the hell happened?” She called as she approached.
Valerie shook her head. “I was going to ask you. The bulkheads to the rear of the ship are closed though.”
Any remaining color in Hannah’s face quickly vanished. “That’s bad then. We should move forward.”
Val nodded in agreement, and the two of them struggled to pull themselves to the front of the ship. They both knew what they were going for. The ship’s hangars contained large transport craft, which could be used as escape shuttles if the need arose. Most of the crew had decided that there was definitely a need, and soon the two of them were part of a mass migration by the survivors to reach the front of the spacecraft.
On her way, though, Valerie caught a glimpse of the planet below out of a window. She paused for a moment, and pulled Hannah into the side room. Miles below, the familiar rust of Mars was being swept into an inferno. A pool of molten fire had enveloped the night side of the planet, and had just about reached the divide between dark and light. As it did, she barely glimpsed the silhouette of a line of tiny ships, just beyond her own, proceeding the wave of destruction. They looked like nothing she had ever seen, and the haunting realization of what was happening dawned on her. An entire planet, being exterminated. Hannah pulled at her to get back to moving for the escape craft, but something told her it didn’t really matter anymore.
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "The computer's finished, come over here."
"What does it say, Will?"
"I don't know yet, come take a look."
"I bet we're gonna be disappointed again. Just another slow pulsar, all the signals are."
"Nah, I'm sure of it, this one's different."
"Well, open it up then, let's see what it says."
The message on the computer screen read
'PATTERN NOT RECOGNISABLE FROM STAR DATABASE
NO MATCHES FOR
PULSAR
QUASAR
MAIN SEQUENCE STARS
BLACK HOLE/SUPERNOVA
ATTEMPTING LANGUAGE DECODE
The two stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, shocked.
"I told you Sandra, it's something new, not a star or some other celestial object."
"Should we call someone? We could have the whole NASA team here in minutes!"
"No, no not yet, wait to see what it says. If we call a big team down here, someone will end up tweeting it. Probably Ted, you know what he's like."
"Fair enough, how long will language decode take?"
Her speech was punctuated by the 'ping' sound the computer made as it finished language decode.
MESSAGE DECIPHERED
READABLE IN 23 LANGUAGES
MESSAGE READS:
Be i t before thhe yy eat you
"What's that supposed to mean? They'll eat us? Who's gonna eat us? Is there any other signal, any other information?"
"No, look how it's written, it's missing letters, the data must be corrupted, I'll try and retranslate it."
ATTEMPTING DATA FIX
RETRANSLATING
MESSAGE READS
Be quiet before they find you
"Is that worse? What will hear us?"
"Whatever else is listening, presumably."
"Can we establish a connection back to the sender? Where did it come from?"
"Sector 43 Beta A. It's the current transmit point for Acreibo. It's... It's a reply."
"Send something back, quick! I'll… call everyone?"
"Yeah. Everyone. Including acreibo, get them to stop transmitting for a while."
"Are you sure? They'll be pissed."
"They'll be more pissed if a flying saucer turns up and wrecks there transmitter, go call them."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Write a reply. Hopefully no one else find it." | “Hey, did y’all hear the news about the alien message?” Henry asked as he sat down with his meal.
The others at the table just stared at him, not wanting to take a break from eating their meals. Undeterred, Henry continued, “I mean, it’s crazy, right?”
“Yeah, real crazy, Henry,” came a reply from down the table.
“Oh come on, y’all must be at least a bit excited to hear that there are aliens somewhere out there.”
The woman sitting across from him paused from devouring her rations to stare at him. “Henry, nobody cares about what the aliens say. So shut up and eat.”
Henry leaned back over the edge of the bench, and feigned insult. “Why, am I the only one who wants to see some action here? Come on, you know what the message said, right?” The rest of the table ignored him. “’Be quiet before they find you’? That’s some science-fiction level shit right there. I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to meeting these fellas. ‘Cause they sure as hell wouldn’t expect to be greeted by us, right?”
The woman looked up at him again. “Dude, eat your food. I don’t want to hear you complain about how hungry you are my entire shift.”
“Oh, come on, Valerie,” Henry shot back, leaning forward onto the metal table. “Don’t you think a battle with aliens would be a nice change of pace?” He turned to shout down to the rest of the disinterested table. “I mean, they probably are expecting rifles and airplanes, not railguns and the Styx.”
A chuckle came from beside him. “While I do think you should shut up and eat, yeah, I’d like to see them try and get past us.”
Henry, finally validated, slapped the back of the man who spoke. “That’s right, Dave.” He leaned back to shout across the cafeteria. “‘Cross the Styx, and end up in Hades’, right?” Hearing the mantra of their craft, some of the crew gave a half-hearted shout before going back to their meals. “See, they get it,” Henry said with a smirk on his face.
Dave finished choking on the food he had swallowed wrong when Henry hit him and replied, “Yeah, *cough* that’s great, man.”
That was good enough for Henry, who finally paused long enough to eat some of his meal. The crew around him quickly finished up their own meals, becoming involved in their own conversations. Only a handful of them noticed the tremor that ran down the length of the ship, and even fewer thought anything of it. But the blaring of alarms, then sudden silence, caught everyone’s attention. There was no time to react though, as the room slid sideways, out from underneath them.
Valerie was the first to try to pull herself to her feet. To her surprise, she rapidly realized that this was impossible. Her sense of direction was gone entirely, and she was afloat in the middle of the room. Glancing around, she saw her fellow crewmates in similar predicaments. Taking a deep breath, she fell back on instinct, awkwardly trying to swim through the air around her.
Someone cried out for help at the end of the room. But in the low light, she couldn’t quite see where they were. Hoping that someone else was close enough to assist, she continued pushing herself towards the cafeteria door with the rest of the crew, and out into the main passage. As she emerged into the large hallway, she began to notice the people around her. Some of her crewmates were injured, blood pooling in little spheres. She saw other crewmembers were rapidly pushing towards the back of the ship. Looking, she saw why. Large, airtight bulkheads had slammed closed, with flashing lights warning of the vacuum on the other side.
Valerie paused for a moment to get her bearings. She briefly checked herself for injuries, but found none. Satisfied, she pulled herself along the wall, focused on getting to her emergency station. Coming up to it, though, she saw that it was a pointless effort. The weapons station she was assigned to was completely dead, with not a single light coming from the control displays. Others were emerging from the room now, and she caught sight of a friend of hers.
“Hannah, over here!” she shouted. Hannah turned to see her, and gave a small wave, careful not to through herself off balance.
“Val, what the hell happened?” She called as she approached.
Valerie shook her head. “I was going to ask you. The bulkheads to the rear of the ship are closed though.”
Any remaining color in Hannah’s face quickly vanished. “That’s bad then. We should move forward.”
Val nodded in agreement, and the two of them struggled to pull themselves to the front of the ship. They both knew what they were going for. The ship’s hangars contained large transport craft, which could be used as escape shuttles if the need arose. Most of the crew had decided that there was definitely a need, and soon the two of them were part of a mass migration by the survivors to reach the front of the spacecraft.
On her way, though, Valerie caught a glimpse of the planet below out of a window. She paused for a moment, and pulled Hannah into the side room. Miles below, the familiar rust of Mars was being swept into an inferno. A pool of molten fire had enveloped the night side of the planet, and had just about reached the divide between dark and light. As it did, she barely glimpsed the silhouette of a line of tiny ships, just beyond her own, proceeding the wave of destruction. They looked like nothing she had ever seen, and the haunting realization of what was happening dawned on her. An entire planet, being exterminated. Hannah pulled at her to get back to moving for the escape craft, but something told her it didn’t really matter anymore.
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| “Hey, did y’all hear the news about the alien message?” Henry asked as he sat down with his meal.
The others at the table just stared at him, not wanting to take a break from eating their meals. Undeterred, Henry continued, “I mean, it’s crazy, right?”
“Yeah, real crazy, Henry,” came a reply from down the table.
“Oh come on, y’all must be at least a bit excited to hear that there are aliens somewhere out there.”
The woman sitting across from him paused from devouring her rations to stare at him. “Henry, nobody cares about what the aliens say. So shut up and eat.”
Henry leaned back over the edge of the bench, and feigned insult. “Why, am I the only one who wants to see some action here? Come on, you know what the message said, right?” The rest of the table ignored him. “’Be quiet before they find you’? That’s some science-fiction level shit right there. I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to meeting these fellas. ‘Cause they sure as hell wouldn’t expect to be greeted by us, right?”
The woman looked up at him again. “Dude, eat your food. I don’t want to hear you complain about how hungry you are my entire shift.”
“Oh, come on, Valerie,” Henry shot back, leaning forward onto the metal table. “Don’t you think a battle with aliens would be a nice change of pace?” He turned to shout down to the rest of the disinterested table. “I mean, they probably are expecting rifles and airplanes, not railguns and the Styx.”
A chuckle came from beside him. “While I do think you should shut up and eat, yeah, I’d like to see them try and get past us.”
Henry, finally validated, slapped the back of the man who spoke. “That’s right, Dave.” He leaned back to shout across the cafeteria. “‘Cross the Styx, and end up in Hades’, right?” Hearing the mantra of their craft, some of the crew gave a half-hearted shout before going back to their meals. “See, they get it,” Henry said with a smirk on his face.
Dave finished choking on the food he had swallowed wrong when Henry hit him and replied, “Yeah, *cough* that’s great, man.”
That was good enough for Henry, who finally paused long enough to eat some of his meal. The crew around him quickly finished up their own meals, becoming involved in their own conversations. Only a handful of them noticed the tremor that ran down the length of the ship, and even fewer thought anything of it. But the blaring of alarms, then sudden silence, caught everyone’s attention. There was no time to react though, as the room slid sideways, out from underneath them.
Valerie was the first to try to pull herself to her feet. To her surprise, she rapidly realized that this was impossible. Her sense of direction was gone entirely, and she was afloat in the middle of the room. Glancing around, she saw her fellow crewmates in similar predicaments. Taking a deep breath, she fell back on instinct, awkwardly trying to swim through the air around her.
Someone cried out for help at the end of the room. But in the low light, she couldn’t quite see where they were. Hoping that someone else was close enough to assist, she continued pushing herself towards the cafeteria door with the rest of the crew, and out into the main passage. As she emerged into the large hallway, she began to notice the people around her. Some of her crewmates were injured, blood pooling in little spheres. She saw other crewmembers were rapidly pushing towards the back of the ship. Looking, she saw why. Large, airtight bulkheads had slammed closed, with flashing lights warning of the vacuum on the other side.
Valerie paused for a moment to get her bearings. She briefly checked herself for injuries, but found none. Satisfied, she pulled herself along the wall, focused on getting to her emergency station. Coming up to it, though, she saw that it was a pointless effort. The weapons station she was assigned to was completely dead, with not a single light coming from the control displays. Others were emerging from the room now, and she caught sight of a friend of hers.
“Hannah, over here!” she shouted. Hannah turned to see her, and gave a small wave, careful not to through herself off balance.
“Val, what the hell happened?” She called as she approached.
Valerie shook her head. “I was going to ask you. The bulkheads to the rear of the ship are closed though.”
Any remaining color in Hannah’s face quickly vanished. “That’s bad then. We should move forward.”
Val nodded in agreement, and the two of them struggled to pull themselves to the front of the ship. They both knew what they were going for. The ship’s hangars contained large transport craft, which could be used as escape shuttles if the need arose. Most of the crew had decided that there was definitely a need, and soon the two of them were part of a mass migration by the survivors to reach the front of the spacecraft.
On her way, though, Valerie caught a glimpse of the planet below out of a window. She paused for a moment, and pulled Hannah into the side room. Miles below, the familiar rust of Mars was being swept into an inferno. A pool of molten fire had enveloped the night side of the planet, and had just about reached the divide between dark and light. As it did, she barely glimpsed the silhouette of a line of tiny ships, just beyond her own, proceeding the wave of destruction. They looked like nothing she had ever seen, and the haunting realization of what was happening dawned on her. An entire planet, being exterminated. Hannah pulled at her to get back to moving for the escape craft, but something told her it didn’t really matter anymore.
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | “Hey, did y’all hear the news about the alien message?” Henry asked as he sat down with his meal.
The others at the table just stared at him, not wanting to take a break from eating their meals. Undeterred, Henry continued, “I mean, it’s crazy, right?”
“Yeah, real crazy, Henry,” came a reply from down the table.
“Oh come on, y’all must be at least a bit excited to hear that there are aliens somewhere out there.”
The woman sitting across from him paused from devouring her rations to stare at him. “Henry, nobody cares about what the aliens say. So shut up and eat.”
Henry leaned back over the edge of the bench, and feigned insult. “Why, am I the only one who wants to see some action here? Come on, you know what the message said, right?” The rest of the table ignored him. “’Be quiet before they find you’? That’s some science-fiction level shit right there. I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to meeting these fellas. ‘Cause they sure as hell wouldn’t expect to be greeted by us, right?”
The woman looked up at him again. “Dude, eat your food. I don’t want to hear you complain about how hungry you are my entire shift.”
“Oh, come on, Valerie,” Henry shot back, leaning forward onto the metal table. “Don’t you think a battle with aliens would be a nice change of pace?” He turned to shout down to the rest of the disinterested table. “I mean, they probably are expecting rifles and airplanes, not railguns and the Styx.”
A chuckle came from beside him. “While I do think you should shut up and eat, yeah, I’d like to see them try and get past us.”
Henry, finally validated, slapped the back of the man who spoke. “That’s right, Dave.” He leaned back to shout across the cafeteria. “‘Cross the Styx, and end up in Hades’, right?” Hearing the mantra of their craft, some of the crew gave a half-hearted shout before going back to their meals. “See, they get it,” Henry said with a smirk on his face.
Dave finished choking on the food he had swallowed wrong when Henry hit him and replied, “Yeah, *cough* that’s great, man.”
That was good enough for Henry, who finally paused long enough to eat some of his meal. The crew around him quickly finished up their own meals, becoming involved in their own conversations. Only a handful of them noticed the tremor that ran down the length of the ship, and even fewer thought anything of it. But the blaring of alarms, then sudden silence, caught everyone’s attention. There was no time to react though, as the room slid sideways, out from underneath them.
Valerie was the first to try to pull herself to her feet. To her surprise, she rapidly realized that this was impossible. Her sense of direction was gone entirely, and she was afloat in the middle of the room. Glancing around, she saw her fellow crewmates in similar predicaments. Taking a deep breath, she fell back on instinct, awkwardly trying to swim through the air around her.
Someone cried out for help at the end of the room. But in the low light, she couldn’t quite see where they were. Hoping that someone else was close enough to assist, she continued pushing herself towards the cafeteria door with the rest of the crew, and out into the main passage. As she emerged into the large hallway, she began to notice the people around her. Some of her crewmates were injured, blood pooling in little spheres. She saw other crewmembers were rapidly pushing towards the back of the ship. Looking, she saw why. Large, airtight bulkheads had slammed closed, with flashing lights warning of the vacuum on the other side.
Valerie paused for a moment to get her bearings. She briefly checked herself for injuries, but found none. Satisfied, she pulled herself along the wall, focused on getting to her emergency station. Coming up to it, though, she saw that it was a pointless effort. The weapons station she was assigned to was completely dead, with not a single light coming from the control displays. Others were emerging from the room now, and she caught sight of a friend of hers.
“Hannah, over here!” she shouted. Hannah turned to see her, and gave a small wave, careful not to through herself off balance.
“Val, what the hell happened?” She called as she approached.
Valerie shook her head. “I was going to ask you. The bulkheads to the rear of the ship are closed though.”
Any remaining color in Hannah’s face quickly vanished. “That’s bad then. We should move forward.”
Val nodded in agreement, and the two of them struggled to pull themselves to the front of the ship. They both knew what they were going for. The ship’s hangars contained large transport craft, which could be used as escape shuttles if the need arose. Most of the crew had decided that there was definitely a need, and soon the two of them were part of a mass migration by the survivors to reach the front of the spacecraft.
On her way, though, Valerie caught a glimpse of the planet below out of a window. She paused for a moment, and pulled Hannah into the side room. Miles below, the familiar rust of Mars was being swept into an inferno. A pool of molten fire had enveloped the night side of the planet, and had just about reached the divide between dark and light. As it did, she barely glimpsed the silhouette of a line of tiny ships, just beyond her own, proceeding the wave of destruction. They looked like nothing she had ever seen, and the haunting realization of what was happening dawned on her. An entire planet, being exterminated. Hannah pulled at her to get back to moving for the escape craft, but something told her it didn’t really matter anymore.
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| "The computer's finished, come over here."
"What does it say, Will?"
"I don't know yet, come take a look."
"I bet we're gonna be disappointed again. Just another slow pulsar, all the signals are."
"Nah, I'm sure of it, this one's different."
"Well, open it up then, let's see what it says."
The message on the computer screen read
'PATTERN NOT RECOGNISABLE FROM STAR DATABASE
NO MATCHES FOR
PULSAR
QUASAR
MAIN SEQUENCE STARS
BLACK HOLE/SUPERNOVA
ATTEMPTING LANGUAGE DECODE
The two stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, shocked.
"I told you Sandra, it's something new, not a star or some other celestial object."
"Should we call someone? We could have the whole NASA team here in minutes!"
"No, no not yet, wait to see what it says. If we call a big team down here, someone will end up tweeting it. Probably Ted, you know what he's like."
"Fair enough, how long will language decode take?"
Her speech was punctuated by the 'ping' sound the computer made as it finished language decode.
MESSAGE DECIPHERED
READABLE IN 23 LANGUAGES
MESSAGE READS:
Be i t before thhe yy eat you
"What's that supposed to mean? They'll eat us? Who's gonna eat us? Is there any other signal, any other information?"
"No, look how it's written, it's missing letters, the data must be corrupted, I'll try and retranslate it."
ATTEMPTING DATA FIX
RETRANSLATING
MESSAGE READS
Be quiet before they find you
"Is that worse? What will hear us?"
"Whatever else is listening, presumably."
"Can we establish a connection back to the sender? Where did it come from?"
"Sector 43 Beta A. It's the current transmit point for Acreibo. It's... It's a reply."
"Send something back, quick! I'll… call everyone?"
"Yeah. Everyone. Including acreibo, get them to stop transmitting for a while."
"Are you sure? They'll be pissed."
"They'll be more pissed if a flying saucer turns up and wrecks there transmitter, go call them."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Write a reply. Hopefully no one else find it." | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | "The computer's finished, come over here."
"What does it say, Will?"
"I don't know yet, come take a look."
"I bet we're gonna be disappointed again. Just another slow pulsar, all the signals are."
"Nah, I'm sure of it, this one's different."
"Well, open it up then, let's see what it says."
The message on the computer screen read
'PATTERN NOT RECOGNISABLE FROM STAR DATABASE
NO MATCHES FOR
PULSAR
QUASAR
MAIN SEQUENCE STARS
BLACK HOLE/SUPERNOVA
ATTEMPTING LANGUAGE DECODE
The two stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, shocked.
"I told you Sandra, it's something new, not a star or some other celestial object."
"Should we call someone? We could have the whole NASA team here in minutes!"
"No, no not yet, wait to see what it says. If we call a big team down here, someone will end up tweeting it. Probably Ted, you know what he's like."
"Fair enough, how long will language decode take?"
Her speech was punctuated by the 'ping' sound the computer made as it finished language decode.
MESSAGE DECIPHERED
READABLE IN 23 LANGUAGES
MESSAGE READS:
Be i t before thhe yy eat you
"What's that supposed to mean? They'll eat us? Who's gonna eat us? Is there any other signal, any other information?"
"No, look how it's written, it's missing letters, the data must be corrupted, I'll try and retranslate it."
ATTEMPTING DATA FIX
RETRANSLATING
MESSAGE READS
Be quiet before they find you
"Is that worse? What will hear us?"
"Whatever else is listening, presumably."
"Can we establish a connection back to the sender? Where did it come from?"
"Sector 43 Beta A. It's the current transmit point for Acreibo. It's... It's a reply."
"Send something back, quick! I'll… call everyone?"
"Yeah. Everyone. Including acreibo, get them to stop transmitting for a while."
"Are you sure? They'll be pissed."
"They'll be more pissed if a flying saucer turns up and wrecks there transmitter, go call them."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Write a reply. Hopefully no one else find it." | |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | The message was unmistakable. Transmitted on 10 different frequencies in 27 different languages, all saying the same thing, "Be quiet before they find you".
Three hours later a second message. "You have less than 6 hours to shut down all broadcasts, otherwise they will find you".
The message was genuine, and apart from a few crackpot conspiracists, every scientist across the US, in fact across the globe was drafted in, along with every TV and radio network; anything that could or was transmitting was silenced with less than 3 minutes to go.
The president hovered near the SETI receiving system, waiting for a message, any message. Time ticked by and the deadline passed.
The president bit his lip. Would the mysterious communicator send another message or was that it?
"Beep", said the receiving computer and another message appeared on the screen.
"They didn't rescue you. Now you belong to us".
Edit: Decapitalized. thanks
| Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Mr. President! An urgent message from SETI, through NASA. Top priority, respond as soon as possible. Information attached." The email was brief and contained two image files. You had been putting this off all day but it was time to see what they wanted. You had fought with Congress for two years to double NASA's budget, but according to Congress "nothing had been accomplished proportionate to the budget." Your trust in them had wavered as well during these couple of years and now everything was taken with a grain of salt.
You sigh and open the first image. It was a graph of some kind, which you puzzle over for a second before opening the second. This seemed like an interpretation of the first graph. Your eyes move to the bottom of the image and you see the final output, some sort of message.
>***BE QUIET BEFORE THEY FIND YOU***
was all was written.
*Weird.* You think. You set up a meeting with the director of NASA for the next day and head to bed. This was too much of a mystery.
>>
The next day, you sit and listen as the director, along with the team that deciphered the message spout their science trying to convince you that the message received was legitimate and not a misinterpretation of data. After an hour of back-and-forth you finally speak up, partially to ease the obvious nervousness and desperate on their faces.
"An alien civilization told us to 'shut up' is what you're saying."
"Yes Mr. President. We have shut down our broadcasts but we need you to negotiate to shut off the rest of the world's antennas."
The request was certainly going to be an endeavor and most countries took far longer to be convinced of the fact that extraterrestrials had contacted Earth. NASA continued to listen and monitor the skies, waiting for any more context for the previous message. There was none.
Months into the negotiations, you were sitting in Russia, waiting for your morning coffee to arrive. A man arrived with a cup of coffee, two sugars and no creamer. You reached to take it, but a sudden shaking of the ground caused the hot beverage to splash all over you and the floor.
Another blast knocks you off your chair and onto the floor as the windows burst into shards. A low sound, not unlike that of a horn sounds. It raises in pitch and you scramble to your bed for pillows to cover your ears. Halfway there, the sound stops and three low blasts shake you before a voice clears its throat.
"Are you idiots? You guys practically screamed 'Here we are! Come get us! Idiots. Anyways, tag you're it. I don't think you're going to get anyone though so I think I win. Seriously, how dense are you guys?" | Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Saytzev, you're a real obstinate son of a bitch," Brinwell said. He nervously chewed on a hangnail. "You know what public sentiment is like right now. Damn the scientists, they reached too far and dug too deep, et cetera, et cetera. We'll be lucky if they only burn down our facility. At worst they're going to lynch us."
Saytzev barely looked up at him. "And you would do otherwise? Cold feet, Brinwell? Are you going to betray the project now, at its most crucial stage?"
"Good lord, at least try not to sound like a fanatic," Brinwell said. He glanced out the window, at the crowd of protestors not thirty feet away from them. BE QUIET, the signs read. Crude images of parabolic antennas crossed out. "This is - You know damn well this is tempting fate."
"Not at all," Saytzev grunted. "We have already been found out. The, ah, what is the phrase? The genie is out of the bottle. And now we must deal with this accursed djinn." He tapped a key and for a moment the music of a theremin flooded the room. He closed his eyes briefly. "Ah. Beauty. An ineluctable assertion of our existence." He flipped the music off. "Prepare to broadcast."
"It's just-" Brinwell said. His brow was damp with sweat. "Damn it, Saytzev, you know the risks just as well as I do! We're the Indians signalling Columbus. And the Message-"
"The Message is garbage!" Saytzev blurted out. "Nonsensical. Without details. Which broadcasts are dangerous? Who is the enemy? From what should we hide?" He threw up his hands. "A six word broadcast, telling us nothing but to be quiet, be fearful!" His footsteps paced a trail between the consoles. "And for what purpose? Yes, fine, assume a superpredator civilization. You, the wise quiet world, have been hiding from it for generations. You hear a new, noisy planet calling its attention. What would you do? Stay silent, and allow it to be eaten? Or, against all logic, raise your voice and call out 'BE QUIET!'" He slammed his hands back down on the desk. "This is madness, Brinwell. I do not deal in madness."
"No," Brinwell murmured. "You deal in provocation."
"I am not content to remain ignorant," Saytzev said. He flicked the last switch. Unseen to the protesting crowd outside, a radio signal was beamed out into the cosmos. "Whoever sent the Message, they told us one thing of value at least. They told us their location. And now, we will scream into the heavens. We will demand our answers. We will paint out their location to anyone who is listening. And one way or another, we will force them to act." | Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | *The problem with suicide*, Ethan thought, looking from the gun in his hand to the drawer on the other side of
the room where he kept the bullets, *is that it requires too much initiative.*
He studied the gun, tired. Then, grunting like an old man, he pushed himself away from the mainframe computer and dragged his tired, unwashed, unattractive, unloved body to the other end of the room.
He opened the drawer, but there were no bullets there.
*I must have left them in the car.*
He looked out the window across the heavy rain beating the open patio in front of him. In the distance, he spotted
his car at the very edge of the parking lot.
"Meh. I'll do it tomorrow."
He went back to his seat.
Everyone told him that the night shift at the SETI headquarters would depress the shit out of him. They warned him that people go insane, all alone in that big NASA lab, hearing the hypnotic beep of the computers, listening, listening, listening to nothing.
"The thing is," people would say, "there are no aliens. So you're just there from ten at night to eight in the morning all alone listening to the universe. Listening to nothing."
But Ethan thought: *My wife left me, my daughter won't return my calls, my boss publicly harasses me daily and
my dog hates me so much it actually learned how to roll its eyes. I can't possibly get more depressed.*
Well, he was proven wrong, all right.
It wasn't bad at first. I mean, it was *bad*, like most of life is bad. Like, in that way that everything is bad because
of the absurdity of the human condition bad. The way that bread never really tastes that good because you know
about the heath death of the universe and all.
'Displeasing' was the word. Like thinking about the fact that there were pets aboard the Titanic.
But it wasn't *awful* until the second month. That's when Ethan really started contemplating the whole suicide
thing.
"Being alone with your own mind," he said, to the empty room around him, "is only fun if you have an interesting
mind."
Ethan didn't have an interesting mind. He was boring, and he knew that. His wife would complain daily, before she
left: "Why are you so *boring*, Ethan?"
And he'd answer: "I don't know." Because it was true. He didn't know. As far as his adult life went back, he had
always been the kind of guy who wasn't particularly into any specific kind of music, wore cotton turtleneck sweaters, drove a beige Corolla and didn't speak any foreign languages.
He was the kind of guy that drank Vanilla Coke.
*Mundane* was the word his wife used before she left.
"Mundane…" Ethan repeated, his voice echoed across the large room over the humming of the air conditioning. "Mundane."
"Shut the fuck up already, they're going to hear you," came a voice from his computer.
Ethan froze, his coffee mug halfway to his lips.
The voice had come from one of the 'listening' computers. The ones designed to capture back any signals that
might come in reply to the ones Earth sends out daily.
Those computers had never, not once, made a sound.
"What?" Ethan asked, so low he wasn't even sure he had said anything.
The screen came alive in a rainy hiss that gradually turned into a face that was… human, but not so much.
I mean, it could certainly pass for a human being's face, but… there was something off about that face. Like it had been put together by someone who had all the pieces and an instruction manual, but had never really seen a human being before.
"Stop broadcasting stuff all over space," the face said, as the image came in and out of focus. "You're gonna call their attention to yourselves. They're gonna hear you."
"Who's they?" Ethan asked, because, for some reason, *that* was the question on his mind at that moment.
The figure looked down. "Wait… are you alone there?"
"Yes."
"Shit, they got you already…" The face looked away, then back at the screen. "Listen… we'll get you aboard, don’t
worry."
"Huh…," Ethan said, now dealing with the fact that the reality of what was happening had begun to sink in and was making him feel all weird and tingly and shaky, like when he was eight years old and the magician at Leslie Brown's birthday party had called him onstage to help with the trick.
The sound of typing reached his ear from the computer, then the face said: "All right, we're beaming you in."
"Beaming… me… what?"
"Just stand still. Don't move." The face paused. "And, hey… I'm sorry about your people."
"What… what do you mean?"
"You said you are alone on the planet, right? They got to you. They killed your people. Right?"
Ethan had a lot of questions. Who was *they*? Was the person in front of him really an alien? How did that
seashell get into his shoe when he was fourteen, during a family trip to Arizona?
But he saved them for later, because he realized the face on the other side of the screen had misunderstood him.
The face thought he was alone on the planet.
"No, I meant…"
And then Ethan paused. He bit his lips and considered his life, thinking back on every interesting and noteworthy
moment he had ever lived.
A highlight reel of his life.
The whole thing took seven seconds and a half, not counting that thing with the sea lions and the pretzel, which really just happened *near* Ethan, but not *to* him.
"What?" the face asked. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he said. "Beam me up, dude."
________________
/r/psycho_alpaca =)
| Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| |
[WP]While writing your essay on demonic possession you lose control of your hand, and it finishes your paper. The results were... unexpected. | Elizabeth rested her head atop her desk when the school bell rang her awake. She stared at the clock and yawned, widening her arms with a stretch before standing up. As she was leaving for her next class, her teacher, Mrs. Thompson, asked her to stay for a bit. She then said:
"It's about your paper, Elizabeth. Did you honestly think I would let you act so nonchalantly about it?"
"Oh, Mrs. Thompson, please just ignore that piece of trash. I know I can do better... It's just, I was feeling very weird that night, and, well, I just wrote without thinking much about it. I uh... I don't even remember what I wrote."
"Trash?" said Mrs. Thompson, shaking her head. "No, no, Elizabeth, that's not what I meant. I wanted to ask you if I could submit it to a national competition this month! I... I actually cried near the end. It was truly beautiful, a work of art!"
Elizabeth's drowsiness from the night before melted away instantly, opening her eyes with shock as she gave her teacher a perplexed look. Mrs. Thompson then said:
"I must admit, I had my doubts about you. I'd read some of your articles on the school news and I was never impressed by any of them... But this?" She grabbed a paper from her desk, wagging it back and forth. "This is genius!"
"Really...?" Elizabeth scratched the back of her head. "What exactly did you like about it...?"
"Well, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the first few paragraphs were a bit dull."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes but didn't say anything, allowing her teacher to continue.
"But it quickly picked up when you switched into first person narrative!"
"First person...?"
"Ujum, that bit about the evils of exorcisms and how they should always be avoided wouldn't have worked as well if you haven't narrated that little boy's experience. That level of anguish... The despair! You captured it brilliantly!"
"Oh god..."
"Yes, that was exactly my reaction!"
Elizabeth's knees weakened after hearing Mrs. Thompson's words, causing her to lean on a chair and sit on the closest desk nearby. Massaging her forehead while hearing more about the essay she didn't write, she slumped further the more her teacher praised the demon's handiwork. Mrs. Thomson eyes got watery before she said:
"My... I'm getting emotional again. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that your writing has changed my life now... Thank you Elizabeth, I feel like I've grown as a person because of you. I feel honored to be teaching a future journalist such as yourself. Your words will change the world, I guarantee it."
"That's very flattering Mrs. Thompson, but I don't think I'll ever write something like that ever again."
"Now's not the time to be humble!" Mrs. Thompson smiled. "Save that for your acceptance speech when you win those hundred-thousand scholarship dollars!"
"I... uhh, that's the prize?"
Mrs. Thompson nodded and said:
"Yup! Of course, you'll have to do something else for the finals, but an author of your caliber should have no problem writing another just as good!"
Elizabeth stood up, forcing a grin for her teacher. She then said goodbye and left for her next class, wishing she hadn't stayed up all night performing an exorcism on herself.
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories! | I sat down at my desk to complete my essay. I had been at it for over an hour and there was still a lot left. ‘12:00’ marked the clock. It was getting late and the paper was due tomorrow. Procrastination was always followed with regret. Why couldn’t I have started this earlier and then I would have been done by now.
’12:15’ marked the clock. What had happened? Did I space out or something. I could swear it was exactly midnight like two seconds ago. I looked at the paper in front of me. What? How? The paper was finished and moreover it was perfect. As if satan himself had written it. Absolutely perfect! But how? I had certainly not written more than 2 pages but here it was completely finished. I stared at my screen for what seemed like hours and at last I just whispered ‘thank you’ to myself or whoever had helped me here.
’12:30’ marked the clock. I looked at my screen and in bright bold letters just at the end of the essay there was a message. ‘ Don’t worry’ it read, ‘you will pay it back one day’.
| |
[WP] "I used to be human." | “I used to be human.”
I used to be a boy with a bright smile and big dreams of becoming an army hero. I used to be a boy who ran around outside and played with the neighborhood dogs. I used to be momma’s “little helper” and dad’s “big man.” I used to be the older brother of a little boy and a little girl.
I used to be one of the top students of Brown County High School. I used to be on the highway to success. I used to be the guy who would try anything new, and who would risk anything, because it was cool. I used to be the guy who got in trouble with the police but always got away. I used to be one of the popular kids.
I used to be a guy who took anything my friends gave me. Anything at all. I used to be in control, and then I used to be a druggie always looking for my next fix, and I used to do anything to get it.
I used to be a con artist, and a thief, and a mugger.
The judge gazed down at me from his wooden throne. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor. For the first-degree murders of Jennifer, Kayla, and Michael Johnson, we find the defendant guilty.”
I used to be human.
| Its breaths were shallow and ragged, the gaping hole in its chest a certain death.
It had indeed once been a man, but corruption had taken hold of it. Nails had morphed into claws while bones had been broken and reforged longer and stronger. Teeth had turned to fang as its face had twisted and shaped itself to better tear and gnaw. But the eyes were unmistakable, pale blue and wet with tears.
The figure who stood over him had his rifle aimed at the monster's skull, a mud splattered cloak draped over his shoulder and battered sword at his waits. Behind him stood a girl, a tall coltish thing with auburn hair. She looked on pensively with eyes full of sadness.
"Do you have a name, beast?" the man demanded, working the bolt of his rifle to chamber a new round. "Any rites you once kept?"
The dying creature coughed, spraying a mist of blood from out between its fangs. "My name was... *is*... Bauer. I was... Lutheran..."
Hilary Flint nodded somberly, and pressed the muzzle of his gun against the Garou's skull.
"May you meet a better fate in the next life than was dealt to you in this one."
***Blam!*** | |
Be creative with this one :) | [WP] You possess a unique superpower. You can observe all statistical data about any person's life. For example, how many days they have left to live, how many people they've killed, how many lovers they've had... | Knowledge is power. I know it might sound cliche, but my superpower drove home that point pretty quickly. It might sound lame at first. The Number Man is here to save the day! He knows statistics! But it turned out to be a lot more than that.
It's funny how I got the power in the first place. My old job was selling life insurance. And I was good at it too. Knew all the rules, knew how to file so that my clients were given the best rates possible for who they were. I knew the numbers, the rates, and the average life expectancy. And then I learned peoples personal life expectancy.
And now I rule the world. It only took two numbers to do it too, out of the trillions of statistics I could come up with. How long a person has left to live, and the social security number of the person who killed them. It took me a week to find and foil my first assassination. Two months after that I had a billion dollar company providing life insurance of a completely different sort. A thousand customers paying a million dollars a year for guaranteed foiling of all assassination attempts. An hour a day to look up the relevant statistics, another hour to handle any urgent cases, and the rest of the time was mine to explore those numbers and what else I could do with them.
With a grin I sat down at my computer and got to work. Selecting a high profile criminal I started looking at the numbers. Number of people currently willing to betray him? 1. Time to find out who that one person was, and what their price would be. | Hey there! Welcome to the Crevice!
What? No, I'm not Death. Neither am I Satan, or God, or whatever you believe in... Besides, those guys didn't exist past the third century!
...Huh? Who am I? Well, before I met my... demise, per say, I was called Thomas. I had the ability to look into peoples fears, the things that only they wanted to know, and in some cases, had locked away for good.
Even dead bodies! For example, I read the dead body of that famous composer, err... Mozart, was it? He had actually made *eighty three* symphonies in his life time! They others he burnt and destroyed. Shame.
Anyway, when I died, I was seventeen years old. A problem, really, because I had so much to look at, so much to read... So many souls to pickpocket thoughts from and put back carefully. I saw a dark path ahead of me, and this guy, dressed in a suit of course, came up to me and asked;
'Would you like to be my servant?'
Turns out, my job was to go to the surface world and 'spy' on people, change lives so to speak. I fixed relationships, ended unhappiness, did everything I could.
...Ah, so you have heard of me. Good, I've been mentioned on the news quite a lot.
'Cloaked figure, bright orange eyes, messy yellow hair.' Yep, that's me. I'm the one who hooked you up with your wife. The one to convince you to get married.
...No, I don't recall that moment. When did that happen?
...Ah... So that's why you're here, I guess. I'm sorry about your child...
But, continuing from where I was, have you ever heard of the phrase 'For whom does the bell toll?'
That would be me. Thomas wasn't sitting well with the other Deities, so I changed it to Toandeff.
...Stop laughing. It made sense at the time.
Anyway, I can read your soul if you- No? why not?
...Oh.
...*Oh...*
Okay buddy. I won't tell the others. You've suffered enough. Sadly though, you have just admitted to breaking a sacred rule of the Crevice. I'm gonna have to send you to the Void.
No, not Hell. Hell is less boring, in my opinion. Heaven doesn't exist either, sadly, just the Final Act. And trust me, The doesn't take kindly to sinners.
... What do you mean 'The?' He's the ruler of the Final Act. I don't want to submit you to torture, so I'm sure Siesin will take care of you.
Correct, he is the ruler of the Void. You catch on quick.
Anyway, down the staircase. Still got a few more to talk to.
...Bye!
...
*Ring ring...*
*Ring ring...*
Hello, Siesin? Yeah, Toandeff here. Got another suicider. Killed his child too...
What? The child's still alive? And his wife is too?
Shit...
I guess I'll have to go talk to them. See if I can convince them to get therapy.
Besides, I read his soul...
It was gonna happen anyway. |
Be creative with this one :) | [WP] You possess a unique superpower. You can observe all statistical data about any person's life. For example, how many days they have left to live, how many people they've killed, how many lovers they've had... | “So tell me a little about why you applied for this job.”
My palms were sweating, I wiped them on my pants. Twenty-seven days in a row she had eaten a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, half a cup of milk. Her period would start in 38 hours, she was forty-four years old, one-kid, he weighed one-hundred and fifty pounds, he had just over six-thousand days of life left. I had a 10% chance of gaining her approval for the job.
“Well, I was feeling a bit limited in my old position, the slow market has limited the development opportunities in the financial field”
My chances went down to 5%. 34-C, she wore a 34-c bra, she’d been wearing the same bra for seventy days straight. She weighed one-hundred and twenty nine pounds.
“Plus I was really excited by the part of the description where it mentioned human performance modeling, I did a bit of that back in graduate school, really enjoyed, it but the job market was shit back then.”
I cursed at myself for cursing, it had just come out. Her temperature rose slightly from 97.9 to 98.4 degrees. She smiled at me and shifted in her chair. My chances went up to 23%.
“Tell me about your human performance modeling experience…” She glanced down at my resume before continuing “…Lionel.” I was more than just a name to her. She had seven-hundred and fifty-two people she could recognize and name without hesitation, a moment ago it had only been seven-hundred and fifty-one.
“I was part of a team that worked on choice reaction-time variability in high-stress situations based on different training models.” Every word drove my chances higher, I was now at 48%. Her heart rate had spiked to 80 beats per minute when I mentioned choice-reaction time.
“Can you tell me any more about the project?” There were 3,290 hairs on her arms, 2,801 of them had stiffened when she asked me about the project.
“I’m afraid my NDA and the clearance on the project doesn’t allow me to say much more.” The remaining 400 hairs stiffened slightly. Her breathing increased to from twelve to twenty breaths per minute. Also, she would need to pee in ten minutes. My chances of her approval were in the low 90’s, switching every split second from 90% to 93%. She smiled. It had been 151 days since her last dentist visit.
“Can you tell me what company you were working for? We can verify your involvement through the department of defense.” Her pulse spiked, her temperature spiked, she was lying, they could not verify my involvement, or at least not through the department of defense.
“Raytheon.” She smiled and wrote a quick note on my resume. She was writing at an absurdly slow pace, twenty-one letters per minute. The average person wrote at around 65 letters per minute. Her breathing slowed as she wrote, her heart rate increased. Writing caused her pain. My chance of approval seemed to have reached an equilibrium of 92.3%.
“So where do you see yourself in five years?”
It was a stupid question, I rattled off the usual generic success measures they wanted to hear. She had four lovers in her life. Three of them were dead. She’d attended sixteen funerals, she’d killed four people. I stopped mid-sentence, I’d never encountered anyone who had killed someone before, she had killed four.
“Lionel? You were just telling me about the value of project management experience and how the position would offer you the opportunity to gain it?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I paused and looked at her, she smiled back. My chances had dropped, back down to 60%, still good, but not a lock.
“Ok, Lionel, I’m going to ask you one of those bullshit questions that Google made popular, this job requires a lot of problem solving, and I want you to show me how you problem solve.”
“Ok.”
“How many words do you think I say in an average meeting?”
Fourteen hundred and seventy-six. Over the past year she had spoken, on average, just under 1500 words at per meeting. I watched as my chances of approval dropped the longer I stayed silent, like a countdown, they were at 41% when I spoke.
“You’ve said 131 words so far this interview at a rate of about 100 words per minute. You speak slowly in interviews because you think you are smarter than the candidates. You are, usually.” Her IQ of 160 pretty much guaranteed that. “In meetings you probably speak quicker, maybe 120 words per minute. You had four meetings yesterday at an average duration of fifty-five minutes…” I saw a look of fear cross her face, I quickly added: “Probably, since your fairly high up in this organization and meetings usually are scheduled for an hour. Executives, like yourself, spend on average a third of their time in meetings.” She spent 34.8% of her work time the previous year in meetings. “But yesterday was Monday, when there are usually some extra meetings, I just guessed at four meetings. You are a decision maker here, so I have to guess whether you are the type of decision maker who is quiet and renders a verdict, or engages in discussion to reach a compromise.” Her heart rate spiked slightly on the former. “I’m going to guess the quiet verdict type, you have other ways of making your opinion know prior to meetings, so you are a listener. Based on that, I’d say you usually speak for the first three-five minutes and the final five minutes during a one hour meeting, with just 3 minutes of clarification in between. That means 11-15 minutes of speaking for every one hour meeting. Multiplication, 120 words per minute, 11 to fifteen minutes means a range of about 1300 to 1800. I’m going to guess just around 1500 words per meeting.”
She stared at me, my approval chances were at 99%.
“Lionel, all of our meetings are recorded and transcribed for archiving purposes. Just last week an intern, as a fun project coded our meetings and produced a a report on our average words per person. Mine was 1,488.”
“Just a lucky guess, I’ve always been good with numbers.”
“I have to interview a few more candidates…” There was only one more candidate, she had interviewed seventeen so far, including myself. “…But I think, pending a background check, you should be hearing from HR soon.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and shook her hand, she had shaken the hands of 394 people before me. She would shake the hands of exactly two-hundred more before she died.
| Hey there! Welcome to the Crevice!
What? No, I'm not Death. Neither am I Satan, or God, or whatever you believe in... Besides, those guys didn't exist past the third century!
...Huh? Who am I? Well, before I met my... demise, per say, I was called Thomas. I had the ability to look into peoples fears, the things that only they wanted to know, and in some cases, had locked away for good.
Even dead bodies! For example, I read the dead body of that famous composer, err... Mozart, was it? He had actually made *eighty three* symphonies in his life time! They others he burnt and destroyed. Shame.
Anyway, when I died, I was seventeen years old. A problem, really, because I had so much to look at, so much to read... So many souls to pickpocket thoughts from and put back carefully. I saw a dark path ahead of me, and this guy, dressed in a suit of course, came up to me and asked;
'Would you like to be my servant?'
Turns out, my job was to go to the surface world and 'spy' on people, change lives so to speak. I fixed relationships, ended unhappiness, did everything I could.
...Ah, so you have heard of me. Good, I've been mentioned on the news quite a lot.
'Cloaked figure, bright orange eyes, messy yellow hair.' Yep, that's me. I'm the one who hooked you up with your wife. The one to convince you to get married.
...No, I don't recall that moment. When did that happen?
...Ah... So that's why you're here, I guess. I'm sorry about your child...
But, continuing from where I was, have you ever heard of the phrase 'For whom does the bell toll?'
That would be me. Thomas wasn't sitting well with the other Deities, so I changed it to Toandeff.
...Stop laughing. It made sense at the time.
Anyway, I can read your soul if you- No? why not?
...Oh.
...*Oh...*
Okay buddy. I won't tell the others. You've suffered enough. Sadly though, you have just admitted to breaking a sacred rule of the Crevice. I'm gonna have to send you to the Void.
No, not Hell. Hell is less boring, in my opinion. Heaven doesn't exist either, sadly, just the Final Act. And trust me, The doesn't take kindly to sinners.
... What do you mean 'The?' He's the ruler of the Final Act. I don't want to submit you to torture, so I'm sure Siesin will take care of you.
Correct, he is the ruler of the Void. You catch on quick.
Anyway, down the staircase. Still got a few more to talk to.
...Bye!
...
*Ring ring...*
*Ring ring...*
Hello, Siesin? Yeah, Toandeff here. Got another suicider. Killed his child too...
What? The child's still alive? And his wife is too?
Shit...
I guess I'll have to go talk to them. See if I can convince them to get therapy.
Besides, I read his soul...
It was gonna happen anyway. |
Be creative with this one :) | [WP] You possess a unique superpower. You can observe all statistical data about any person's life. For example, how many days they have left to live, how many people they've killed, how many lovers they've had... | “So tell me a little about why you applied for this job.”
My palms were sweating, I wiped them on my pants. Twenty-seven days in a row she had eaten a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, half a cup of milk. Her period would start in 38 hours, she was forty-four years old, one-kid, he weighed one-hundred and fifty pounds, he had just over six-thousand days of life left. I had a 10% chance of gaining her approval for the job.
“Well, I was feeling a bit limited in my old position, the slow market has limited the development opportunities in the financial field”
My chances went down to 5%. 34-C, she wore a 34-c bra, she’d been wearing the same bra for seventy days straight. She weighed one-hundred and twenty nine pounds.
“Plus I was really excited by the part of the description where it mentioned human performance modeling, I did a bit of that back in graduate school, really enjoyed, it but the job market was shit back then.”
I cursed at myself for cursing, it had just come out. Her temperature rose slightly from 97.9 to 98.4 degrees. She smiled at me and shifted in her chair. My chances went up to 23%.
“Tell me about your human performance modeling experience…” She glanced down at my resume before continuing “…Lionel.” I was more than just a name to her. She had seven-hundred and fifty-two people she could recognize and name without hesitation, a moment ago it had only been seven-hundred and fifty-one.
“I was part of a team that worked on choice reaction-time variability in high-stress situations based on different training models.” Every word drove my chances higher, I was now at 48%. Her heart rate had spiked to 80 beats per minute when I mentioned choice-reaction time.
“Can you tell me any more about the project?” There were 3,290 hairs on her arms, 2,801 of them had stiffened when she asked me about the project.
“I’m afraid my NDA and the clearance on the project doesn’t allow me to say much more.” The remaining 400 hairs stiffened slightly. Her breathing increased to from twelve to twenty breaths per minute. Also, she would need to pee in ten minutes. My chances of her approval were in the low 90’s, switching every split second from 90% to 93%. She smiled. It had been 151 days since her last dentist visit.
“Can you tell me what company you were working for? We can verify your involvement through the department of defense.” Her pulse spiked, her temperature spiked, she was lying, they could not verify my involvement, or at least not through the department of defense.
“Raytheon.” She smiled and wrote a quick note on my resume. She was writing at an absurdly slow pace, twenty-one letters per minute. The average person wrote at around 65 letters per minute. Her breathing slowed as she wrote, her heart rate increased. Writing caused her pain. My chance of approval seemed to have reached an equilibrium of 92.3%.
“So where do you see yourself in five years?”
It was a stupid question, I rattled off the usual generic success measures they wanted to hear. She had four lovers in her life. Three of them were dead. She’d attended sixteen funerals, she’d killed four people. I stopped mid-sentence, I’d never encountered anyone who had killed someone before, she had killed four.
“Lionel? You were just telling me about the value of project management experience and how the position would offer you the opportunity to gain it?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I paused and looked at her, she smiled back. My chances had dropped, back down to 60%, still good, but not a lock.
“Ok, Lionel, I’m going to ask you one of those bullshit questions that Google made popular, this job requires a lot of problem solving, and I want you to show me how you problem solve.”
“Ok.”
“How many words do you think I say in an average meeting?”
Fourteen hundred and seventy-six. Over the past year she had spoken, on average, just under 1500 words at per meeting. I watched as my chances of approval dropped the longer I stayed silent, like a countdown, they were at 41% when I spoke.
“You’ve said 131 words so far this interview at a rate of about 100 words per minute. You speak slowly in interviews because you think you are smarter than the candidates. You are, usually.” Her IQ of 160 pretty much guaranteed that. “In meetings you probably speak quicker, maybe 120 words per minute. You had four meetings yesterday at an average duration of fifty-five minutes…” I saw a look of fear cross her face, I quickly added: “Probably, since your fairly high up in this organization and meetings usually are scheduled for an hour. Executives, like yourself, spend on average a third of their time in meetings.” She spent 34.8% of her work time the previous year in meetings. “But yesterday was Monday, when there are usually some extra meetings, I just guessed at four meetings. You are a decision maker here, so I have to guess whether you are the type of decision maker who is quiet and renders a verdict, or engages in discussion to reach a compromise.” Her heart rate spiked slightly on the former. “I’m going to guess the quiet verdict type, you have other ways of making your opinion know prior to meetings, so you are a listener. Based on that, I’d say you usually speak for the first three-five minutes and the final five minutes during a one hour meeting, with just 3 minutes of clarification in between. That means 11-15 minutes of speaking for every one hour meeting. Multiplication, 120 words per minute, 11 to fifteen minutes means a range of about 1300 to 1800. I’m going to guess just around 1500 words per meeting.”
She stared at me, my approval chances were at 99%.
“Lionel, all of our meetings are recorded and transcribed for archiving purposes. Just last week an intern, as a fun project coded our meetings and produced a a report on our average words per person. Mine was 1,488.”
“Just a lucky guess, I’ve always been good with numbers.”
“I have to interview a few more candidates…” There was only one more candidate, she had interviewed seventeen so far, including myself. “…But I think, pending a background check, you should be hearing from HR soon.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and shook her hand, she had shaken the hands of 394 people before me. She would shake the hands of exactly two-hundred more before she died.
| Knowledge is power. I know it might sound cliche, but my superpower drove home that point pretty quickly. It might sound lame at first. The Number Man is here to save the day! He knows statistics! But it turned out to be a lot more than that.
It's funny how I got the power in the first place. My old job was selling life insurance. And I was good at it too. Knew all the rules, knew how to file so that my clients were given the best rates possible for who they were. I knew the numbers, the rates, and the average life expectancy. And then I learned peoples personal life expectancy.
And now I rule the world. It only took two numbers to do it too, out of the trillions of statistics I could come up with. How long a person has left to live, and the social security number of the person who killed them. It took me a week to find and foil my first assassination. Two months after that I had a billion dollar company providing life insurance of a completely different sort. A thousand customers paying a million dollars a year for guaranteed foiling of all assassination attempts. An hour a day to look up the relevant statistics, another hour to handle any urgent cases, and the rest of the time was mine to explore those numbers and what else I could do with them.
With a grin I sat down at my computer and got to work. Selecting a high profile criminal I started looking at the numbers. Number of people currently willing to betray him? 1. Time to find out who that one person was, and what their price would be. |
Be creative with this one :) | [WP] You possess a unique superpower. You can observe all statistical data about any person's life. For example, how many days they have left to live, how many people they've killed, how many lovers they've had... | "Detective!" someone shouted it from the street below and I sat up in bed, groggily looking out the window to the street, "you should get a cellphone!"
"Fuck that," I mutter, thinking about how often I see people on their phones. 13% of their lives, wasted. I won't go that path. The cop obviously has a case for me, he's my chauffeur, my personal 'make-sure-that-asshole-gets-to-work-on-time' nanny.
Last weeks jeans smell OK. Last weeks t-shirt goes on after. I holster the pistol they demand I carry and head down a set of wooden stairs. In my kitchen is...well nothing. There's a few beers in the fridge and a pizza from...I don't even know.
The cop meets me out front with a brown paper wrapped item. Sal's.
"My personal fucking savior." I take it from him and bit into warm, homemade bread with a thick layer of mustard and barbeque sauce between two pads of pastrami. Sal knows me so well.
"So, who died?"
Cop shrugs, hands me a cold coke bottle and motions to the car.
"Barclay, right?"
Cop laughs, shakes his head. Name tag says...Ritter. Fuck. Ritter, Barclay brings me bagels and coffee. I'll remember it one day.
Kid can forgive me, I know more about him than his own mum. Maybe even himself. Ritter. 1 marriage, 47 years left to go, fired his weapon 6 times in the line of duty already, 7 sexual partners.
Kid gets around, he's only 23.
I can count mine on one hand and I've been doing this shit for nearly 50 years.
He drives to the station, an ugly brown building with the police logo hanging over the doors. I get out, wiping a fresh mustard stain deeper into my jeans and waving back at Ritter. Decent sort.
Inside the station smells of stale garbage. It's human odour mixed with someone's paltry attempt to cover it up, week old coffee, and a healthy dose of professional sadness.
"Detective!"
Second time someone's shouted it at me today, this one has a different tone. I don't look up to his second floor office that overlooks the bullpen and reception area. Big open space with nice lights, the renovation inside isn't terrible.
"Captain?"
"Get. In. My. Office!" He roars it and all the cops ignore it. It's a usual...Monday? morning activity for us.
Holy shit it's Wednesday.
No wonder he's pissed.
I head up the stairs and make my way to his office. He sits there, puffing away like an overweight bull.
"Where have you been?"
I shrug.
"We have a murder case that's two days old, got a guy about ready to be cut loose that we think did it."
I shrug.
"Go. Talk. To. Him!"
His favorite way of communicating. Yelling broken sentences. I get up and saunter to interrogation. There's a guy in the room, gross guy. Stubble across his drawn face, thin arms, glancing around like maybe some heroin will come out of the wall if he darts his eyes enough.
26 years old.
1 count of robbery, convicted.
1,998 injections. So close buddy.
1 murder, unsolved.
1 criminal partner.
"He did it. Not alone. Find his partner, probably a junkie girlfriend or something. She'll flip or he will. Better hurry."
I leave. They'll find her. They'll convict him. Why people even bother to try in this town anymore just astounds me.
As I'm walking through the bullpen to the front doors a man enters the station and smiles at me.
"Detective!"
What is it today?
"I have a case for you. I'm going to kill a man in 24 hours. Stop me."
41 years old.
3 marriages.
6 kids.
$127,604,123.89 total earnings.
0 lies told.
0 murders.
For now. | On a subconscious level I didn't really believe that the store called 'Superpowers 4 All" was real, but I put down my $200 and span the wheel anyway.
Invisibility, Immortality, Super Strength, Laser death-eyes, ability to sense impending cat videos, telekinesis they all flew past in a blur.
A knot formed in my stomach as the display flipped round and round and finally stopped on 'Statistical Viewing'. What kind of BULLSHIT was this?????
The salesperson smiled. 'Congratulations, now try it out'
I concentrated and suddenly figures, words and number swam into view.
"Chance of getting a pretty annoying superpower...100%"...
If Only I'd had this power before I spent that money....
Then I turned towards the nearest hot woman..
"Likelihood of going to bed with / chance of being impressed by new power.. 0.1%"....crap
|
Be creative with this one :) | [WP] You possess a unique superpower. You can observe all statistical data about any person's life. For example, how many days they have left to live, how many people they've killed, how many lovers they've had... | “So tell me a little about why you applied for this job.”
My palms were sweating, I wiped them on my pants. Twenty-seven days in a row she had eaten a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, half a cup of milk. Her period would start in 38 hours, she was forty-four years old, one-kid, he weighed one-hundred and fifty pounds, he had just over six-thousand days of life left. I had a 10% chance of gaining her approval for the job.
“Well, I was feeling a bit limited in my old position, the slow market has limited the development opportunities in the financial field”
My chances went down to 5%. 34-C, she wore a 34-c bra, she’d been wearing the same bra for seventy days straight. She weighed one-hundred and twenty nine pounds.
“Plus I was really excited by the part of the description where it mentioned human performance modeling, I did a bit of that back in graduate school, really enjoyed, it but the job market was shit back then.”
I cursed at myself for cursing, it had just come out. Her temperature rose slightly from 97.9 to 98.4 degrees. She smiled at me and shifted in her chair. My chances went up to 23%.
“Tell me about your human performance modeling experience…” She glanced down at my resume before continuing “…Lionel.” I was more than just a name to her. She had seven-hundred and fifty-two people she could recognize and name without hesitation, a moment ago it had only been seven-hundred and fifty-one.
“I was part of a team that worked on choice reaction-time variability in high-stress situations based on different training models.” Every word drove my chances higher, I was now at 48%. Her heart rate had spiked to 80 beats per minute when I mentioned choice-reaction time.
“Can you tell me any more about the project?” There were 3,290 hairs on her arms, 2,801 of them had stiffened when she asked me about the project.
“I’m afraid my NDA and the clearance on the project doesn’t allow me to say much more.” The remaining 400 hairs stiffened slightly. Her breathing increased to from twelve to twenty breaths per minute. Also, she would need to pee in ten minutes. My chances of her approval were in the low 90’s, switching every split second from 90% to 93%. She smiled. It had been 151 days since her last dentist visit.
“Can you tell me what company you were working for? We can verify your involvement through the department of defense.” Her pulse spiked, her temperature spiked, she was lying, they could not verify my involvement, or at least not through the department of defense.
“Raytheon.” She smiled and wrote a quick note on my resume. She was writing at an absurdly slow pace, twenty-one letters per minute. The average person wrote at around 65 letters per minute. Her breathing slowed as she wrote, her heart rate increased. Writing caused her pain. My chance of approval seemed to have reached an equilibrium of 92.3%.
“So where do you see yourself in five years?”
It was a stupid question, I rattled off the usual generic success measures they wanted to hear. She had four lovers in her life. Three of them were dead. She’d attended sixteen funerals, she’d killed four people. I stopped mid-sentence, I’d never encountered anyone who had killed someone before, she had killed four.
“Lionel? You were just telling me about the value of project management experience and how the position would offer you the opportunity to gain it?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I paused and looked at her, she smiled back. My chances had dropped, back down to 60%, still good, but not a lock.
“Ok, Lionel, I’m going to ask you one of those bullshit questions that Google made popular, this job requires a lot of problem solving, and I want you to show me how you problem solve.”
“Ok.”
“How many words do you think I say in an average meeting?”
Fourteen hundred and seventy-six. Over the past year she had spoken, on average, just under 1500 words at per meeting. I watched as my chances of approval dropped the longer I stayed silent, like a countdown, they were at 41% when I spoke.
“You’ve said 131 words so far this interview at a rate of about 100 words per minute. You speak slowly in interviews because you think you are smarter than the candidates. You are, usually.” Her IQ of 160 pretty much guaranteed that. “In meetings you probably speak quicker, maybe 120 words per minute. You had four meetings yesterday at an average duration of fifty-five minutes…” I saw a look of fear cross her face, I quickly added: “Probably, since your fairly high up in this organization and meetings usually are scheduled for an hour. Executives, like yourself, spend on average a third of their time in meetings.” She spent 34.8% of her work time the previous year in meetings. “But yesterday was Monday, when there are usually some extra meetings, I just guessed at four meetings. You are a decision maker here, so I have to guess whether you are the type of decision maker who is quiet and renders a verdict, or engages in discussion to reach a compromise.” Her heart rate spiked slightly on the former. “I’m going to guess the quiet verdict type, you have other ways of making your opinion know prior to meetings, so you are a listener. Based on that, I’d say you usually speak for the first three-five minutes and the final five minutes during a one hour meeting, with just 3 minutes of clarification in between. That means 11-15 minutes of speaking for every one hour meeting. Multiplication, 120 words per minute, 11 to fifteen minutes means a range of about 1300 to 1800. I’m going to guess just around 1500 words per meeting.”
She stared at me, my approval chances were at 99%.
“Lionel, all of our meetings are recorded and transcribed for archiving purposes. Just last week an intern, as a fun project coded our meetings and produced a a report on our average words per person. Mine was 1,488.”
“Just a lucky guess, I’ve always been good with numbers.”
“I have to interview a few more candidates…” There was only one more candidate, she had interviewed seventeen so far, including myself. “…But I think, pending a background check, you should be hearing from HR soon.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and shook her hand, she had shaken the hands of 394 people before me. She would shake the hands of exactly two-hundred more before she died.
| On a subconscious level I didn't really believe that the store called 'Superpowers 4 All" was real, but I put down my $200 and span the wheel anyway.
Invisibility, Immortality, Super Strength, Laser death-eyes, ability to sense impending cat videos, telekinesis they all flew past in a blur.
A knot formed in my stomach as the display flipped round and round and finally stopped on 'Statistical Viewing'. What kind of BULLSHIT was this?????
The salesperson smiled. 'Congratulations, now try it out'
I concentrated and suddenly figures, words and number swam into view.
"Chance of getting a pretty annoying superpower...100%"...
If Only I'd had this power before I spent that money....
Then I turned towards the nearest hot woman..
"Likelihood of going to bed with / chance of being impressed by new power.. 0.1%"....crap
|
Be creative with this one :) | [WP] You possess a unique superpower. You can observe all statistical data about any person's life. For example, how many days they have left to live, how many people they've killed, how many lovers they've had... | “So tell me a little about why you applied for this job.”
My palms were sweating, I wiped them on my pants. Twenty-seven days in a row she had eaten a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, half a cup of milk. Her period would start in 38 hours, she was forty-four years old, one-kid, he weighed one-hundred and fifty pounds, he had just over six-thousand days of life left. I had a 10% chance of gaining her approval for the job.
“Well, I was feeling a bit limited in my old position, the slow market has limited the development opportunities in the financial field”
My chances went down to 5%. 34-C, she wore a 34-c bra, she’d been wearing the same bra for seventy days straight. She weighed one-hundred and twenty nine pounds.
“Plus I was really excited by the part of the description where it mentioned human performance modeling, I did a bit of that back in graduate school, really enjoyed, it but the job market was shit back then.”
I cursed at myself for cursing, it had just come out. Her temperature rose slightly from 97.9 to 98.4 degrees. She smiled at me and shifted in her chair. My chances went up to 23%.
“Tell me about your human performance modeling experience…” She glanced down at my resume before continuing “…Lionel.” I was more than just a name to her. She had seven-hundred and fifty-two people she could recognize and name without hesitation, a moment ago it had only been seven-hundred and fifty-one.
“I was part of a team that worked on choice reaction-time variability in high-stress situations based on different training models.” Every word drove my chances higher, I was now at 48%. Her heart rate had spiked to 80 beats per minute when I mentioned choice-reaction time.
“Can you tell me any more about the project?” There were 3,290 hairs on her arms, 2,801 of them had stiffened when she asked me about the project.
“I’m afraid my NDA and the clearance on the project doesn’t allow me to say much more.” The remaining 400 hairs stiffened slightly. Her breathing increased to from twelve to twenty breaths per minute. Also, she would need to pee in ten minutes. My chances of her approval were in the low 90’s, switching every split second from 90% to 93%. She smiled. It had been 151 days since her last dentist visit.
“Can you tell me what company you were working for? We can verify your involvement through the department of defense.” Her pulse spiked, her temperature spiked, she was lying, they could not verify my involvement, or at least not through the department of defense.
“Raytheon.” She smiled and wrote a quick note on my resume. She was writing at an absurdly slow pace, twenty-one letters per minute. The average person wrote at around 65 letters per minute. Her breathing slowed as she wrote, her heart rate increased. Writing caused her pain. My chance of approval seemed to have reached an equilibrium of 92.3%.
“So where do you see yourself in five years?”
It was a stupid question, I rattled off the usual generic success measures they wanted to hear. She had four lovers in her life. Three of them were dead. She’d attended sixteen funerals, she’d killed four people. I stopped mid-sentence, I’d never encountered anyone who had killed someone before, she had killed four.
“Lionel? You were just telling me about the value of project management experience and how the position would offer you the opportunity to gain it?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I paused and looked at her, she smiled back. My chances had dropped, back down to 60%, still good, but not a lock.
“Ok, Lionel, I’m going to ask you one of those bullshit questions that Google made popular, this job requires a lot of problem solving, and I want you to show me how you problem solve.”
“Ok.”
“How many words do you think I say in an average meeting?”
Fourteen hundred and seventy-six. Over the past year she had spoken, on average, just under 1500 words at per meeting. I watched as my chances of approval dropped the longer I stayed silent, like a countdown, they were at 41% when I spoke.
“You’ve said 131 words so far this interview at a rate of about 100 words per minute. You speak slowly in interviews because you think you are smarter than the candidates. You are, usually.” Her IQ of 160 pretty much guaranteed that. “In meetings you probably speak quicker, maybe 120 words per minute. You had four meetings yesterday at an average duration of fifty-five minutes…” I saw a look of fear cross her face, I quickly added: “Probably, since your fairly high up in this organization and meetings usually are scheduled for an hour. Executives, like yourself, spend on average a third of their time in meetings.” She spent 34.8% of her work time the previous year in meetings. “But yesterday was Monday, when there are usually some extra meetings, I just guessed at four meetings. You are a decision maker here, so I have to guess whether you are the type of decision maker who is quiet and renders a verdict, or engages in discussion to reach a compromise.” Her heart rate spiked slightly on the former. “I’m going to guess the quiet verdict type, you have other ways of making your opinion know prior to meetings, so you are a listener. Based on that, I’d say you usually speak for the first three-five minutes and the final five minutes during a one hour meeting, with just 3 minutes of clarification in between. That means 11-15 minutes of speaking for every one hour meeting. Multiplication, 120 words per minute, 11 to fifteen minutes means a range of about 1300 to 1800. I’m going to guess just around 1500 words per meeting.”
She stared at me, my approval chances were at 99%.
“Lionel, all of our meetings are recorded and transcribed for archiving purposes. Just last week an intern, as a fun project coded our meetings and produced a a report on our average words per person. Mine was 1,488.”
“Just a lucky guess, I’ve always been good with numbers.”
“I have to interview a few more candidates…” There was only one more candidate, she had interviewed seventeen so far, including myself. “…But I think, pending a background check, you should be hearing from HR soon.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and shook her hand, she had shaken the hands of 394 people before me. She would shake the hands of exactly two-hundred more before she died.
| "Detective!" someone shouted it from the street below and I sat up in bed, groggily looking out the window to the street, "you should get a cellphone!"
"Fuck that," I mutter, thinking about how often I see people on their phones. 13% of their lives, wasted. I won't go that path. The cop obviously has a case for me, he's my chauffeur, my personal 'make-sure-that-asshole-gets-to-work-on-time' nanny.
Last weeks jeans smell OK. Last weeks t-shirt goes on after. I holster the pistol they demand I carry and head down a set of wooden stairs. In my kitchen is...well nothing. There's a few beers in the fridge and a pizza from...I don't even know.
The cop meets me out front with a brown paper wrapped item. Sal's.
"My personal fucking savior." I take it from him and bit into warm, homemade bread with a thick layer of mustard and barbeque sauce between two pads of pastrami. Sal knows me so well.
"So, who died?"
Cop shrugs, hands me a cold coke bottle and motions to the car.
"Barclay, right?"
Cop laughs, shakes his head. Name tag says...Ritter. Fuck. Ritter, Barclay brings me bagels and coffee. I'll remember it one day.
Kid can forgive me, I know more about him than his own mum. Maybe even himself. Ritter. 1 marriage, 47 years left to go, fired his weapon 6 times in the line of duty already, 7 sexual partners.
Kid gets around, he's only 23.
I can count mine on one hand and I've been doing this shit for nearly 50 years.
He drives to the station, an ugly brown building with the police logo hanging over the doors. I get out, wiping a fresh mustard stain deeper into my jeans and waving back at Ritter. Decent sort.
Inside the station smells of stale garbage. It's human odour mixed with someone's paltry attempt to cover it up, week old coffee, and a healthy dose of professional sadness.
"Detective!"
Second time someone's shouted it at me today, this one has a different tone. I don't look up to his second floor office that overlooks the bullpen and reception area. Big open space with nice lights, the renovation inside isn't terrible.
"Captain?"
"Get. In. My. Office!" He roars it and all the cops ignore it. It's a usual...Monday? morning activity for us.
Holy shit it's Wednesday.
No wonder he's pissed.
I head up the stairs and make my way to his office. He sits there, puffing away like an overweight bull.
"Where have you been?"
I shrug.
"We have a murder case that's two days old, got a guy about ready to be cut loose that we think did it."
I shrug.
"Go. Talk. To. Him!"
His favorite way of communicating. Yelling broken sentences. I get up and saunter to interrogation. There's a guy in the room, gross guy. Stubble across his drawn face, thin arms, glancing around like maybe some heroin will come out of the wall if he darts his eyes enough.
26 years old.
1 count of robbery, convicted.
1,998 injections. So close buddy.
1 murder, unsolved.
1 criminal partner.
"He did it. Not alone. Find his partner, probably a junkie girlfriend or something. She'll flip or he will. Better hurry."
I leave. They'll find her. They'll convict him. Why people even bother to try in this town anymore just astounds me.
As I'm walking through the bullpen to the front doors a man enters the station and smiles at me.
"Detective!"
What is it today?
"I have a case for you. I'm going to kill a man in 24 hours. Stop me."
41 years old.
3 marriages.
6 kids.
$127,604,123.89 total earnings.
0 lies told.
0 murders.
For now. |
[Wp] Earth is a multigenerational prison created for Adam and Eve who were sentenced to 180 generations. You receive a message, along with the rest of the planet, that your time has been served and all will be teleported back to your mother planet. | 180 was the number of generations
Who have walked the Earth since Eve's temptation
When the number was reached
An angel had a message delivered
Thereby sending humanity
Into a spiral of insanity
Even the mere existence of their jailers
Was a subject for debaters
.
And after humanity had finished their pondering
The hitherto forbidden world they started exploring
Alas, dreadfully lacking were the tools and abilities to do so
And humanity started to miss the comfort of the Earth, long ago
Without it's set routine and lovely hospitality
What is there left to do for humanity?
| 180 generations. That's how I've been punished. There is no explanation, no words to describe the cruelty of my sentence. I stood, facing my elders with tears in my eyes. Through my clouded vision I could see their bafflement at the clear display of emotion I was showing.
How could I describe the pain of losing a child, because I was not able to feed it in time. The pain of frostbite and cold that wraps you so intently until you think you're hot enough to take your clothes off? The excruciating death of a loved one, darkened by a disease you scarcely understand. The overwhelming feeling of never being whole, of always trying to find your soulmate? The greed, the destruction, the despair? I've killed myself a thousand, thousand times. I've split my very soul in two in an infinite amount, and loved it with every fibre of my being. I've loved, lost, howled and hated.
My sentence may have lasted 180 generations, it wasn't until I had served it, that I realised... I am one. The cruelty wasn't time, it was the knowledge that I've always been alone. Solitary confinement with nothing but myself to keep me company.
"So... How do you feel?"
"I feel everything. Nothing. I feel alone, yet I'm finally together. I would say I feel regret, your honour. But I don't. I finally feel complete."
"Good. You are free now."
| |
[Wp] Earth is a multigenerational prison created for Adam and Eve who were sentenced to 180 generations. You receive a message, along with the rest of the planet, that your time has been served and all will be teleported back to your mother planet. | There's a long history on our tiny blue mote of crazy old men living on the tops of mountains. Their reasons are not all the same, but in the end they are all looking for something else. Something outside the constructs of our societies.
Balthazar was a mountain hermit. If you asked him why, he would tell you it was to gain enlightenment. To achieve a higher state of knowledge. To be at one with nature. The reality was simpler, he hated Chad. That fucker stole his wife, stole his company, stole his family. Even stole his goddamned dog. Fuck Chad.
So Balthazar had done what he'd always done when faced with an impossible situation. He ran away. As far as he could, far from every one. And he sulked. He was very good at sulking. However, life on a mountain top was not all sunshine and bitterness: his daily chores demanded too much time away from his sulking.
He needed wood for his fire too keep him warm. Not a difficult task, his mountain was heavily wooded. But it was physical. And he hated physical work. Isolation had its price, and he paid it. Paid it so he could sulk, and be miserable. Balthazar was the worst kind of hermit.
It was on his way home from one of the many tasks he needed to complete to at least keep trying to be human, when he heard a completely alien noise. It was a popping sound that was not unlike giant sheets of industrial bubble wrap being twisted and popped at once. He frowned. He forgot how much he'd loved popping bubble wrap. Fuck Chad. He frowned again, the work had taken his mind off of his former partner, his former wife, his former life, his former dog. He would need to spend more time sulking to get back into his appropriate level of spite. He sat down, and closed his eyes.
Practicing his breathing, he tried to meditate. "I am breathing in one two three. I am breathing out one two three. Slowly, the mountain top faded to darkness as he watched his thoughts drift passed him. Some times he would hold on to one for a moment before letting it go and flow by. A smell caught his memory, and the face of Anna Kendrick filled his perspective. Shit.
"I'm leaving you Bal, I can't take this any more", he said. His wife did not look like Anna Kendrick. "You're such a miserable fuck. You blame every one else for your troubles. I'm not even going to pretend it's not you. It is. You drain every bit of pleasure out of your life and any one around you. Chad is taking control of the company so you don't drive it in to the ground. You've been lucky that he knows what he's doing. Chad..." The face of Anna Kendrick smiled in a way Balthazar recognised from their early relationship. A dreamy contented smile, followed by dreamy contented sigh.
"Fuck Chad!" Balthazar opened his eyes and stormed back to his pathetic little cabin at the top of the mountain. He had long since learned to tune out the beauty of the Vistas that surrounded him at every turn. And so he didn't notice the pillars of smoke rising in the distance, ink stains on nature's oil painting of dusk.
And he heard the popping again. Fucking Chad. Why was he always making his life worse? More popping, louder now. Finally it he realized that the sound was real, and not the memory of a sensory fetish he used to indulge in, and grew curious. He followed the sound right into the centre of his small, dark, dank, one room cottage. Cottage is a bit misleading though, as it was a structure he had build himself, by hand, reluctantly.
The object was glowing, and floating, and had an aura of effervescence. Like some one had carbonated the air it sat in because it's buoyancy was just enough to suspend it there. In the air. The carbonated air popped and fizzled like a fresh bottle of Dr. Pepper. None of that fountain drink crap. This was the kind of fizz you get out of a bottle. The glowing icon looked familiar. Like something he'd left behind. It was the size and shape of a folded price of paper, with blazing lines of fire crisscrossing it's surface. A red circle with a number 1 was over the top corner.
Instinctively, he reached out for it. And it disappeared when his fingers passed through the envelope.
"Greetings," a voice rang clearly in his ears, while text he didn't recognise, but still understood, burned in the air in front of him, "thank you for your stay on penal planet 34-RTH. With your generation, the sentence of 180 generations of multigenerational imprisonment has been fulfilled. Your ancestors debt to the Pan-Galactic Republic of Sentient Beings has been paid, and you will all be free to go. Please heed this time your species has spent in incarceration. It was a direct result of your progenitors willful and deliberate acts of self uplift, against the protocol set forth by the Awakening of Lower Beings Act of 4B65M-IMPCT. Individuals A-Dam, and E-Ve we imprisoned on 34-RTH for self uplift.
We of the PGRoSB would like to thank those you call Dolphins, Corvids (nee. Jackdaws), and Ants for their efforts in maintaining and guarding your people since the beginning of your incarceration.
What do you do now?
Your people will be be transported to the Centre for Re-integration at Tau Ceti Prime. There, you will have your memories and knowledge extracted, assessed, and reintegration, with inclusion of proper mores and behavior befitting a Pan-Galactic citizen. Once you have beeno processed, you will be assigned a purpose by one of our Big Floating Heads. They will have lived your life, and will place you where you will be most comfortable living out the remainder of your days. You will be placed in accordance with your strengths and capabilities. Some of you will be happy, some of you will even be given permission to continue breeding. Truly a seminal moment for your people!
Thank you again for your time on penal planet 34-RTH, please fill out the feed back form once your re-integration has be completed. Have a nice life, and welcome to the PGRoSB".
The voice and flaming letters faded. Balthazar collapsed on the floor of his hovel. This was not his first hallucination since retreating to the mountain top. It was the first one that didn't involve Chad. But this was something else completely.
Darkness filled his vision, and he saw unending space stretching before his tiny mind. Civilizations of untold numbers stretch across eons out away from Balthazar and his tiny hill on his tiny blue dot. He would never see the earth again. | 180 generations. That's how I've been punished. There is no explanation, no words to describe the cruelty of my sentence. I stood, facing my elders with tears in my eyes. Through my clouded vision I could see their bafflement at the clear display of emotion I was showing.
How could I describe the pain of losing a child, because I was not able to feed it in time. The pain of frostbite and cold that wraps you so intently until you think you're hot enough to take your clothes off? The excruciating death of a loved one, darkened by a disease you scarcely understand. The overwhelming feeling of never being whole, of always trying to find your soulmate? The greed, the destruction, the despair? I've killed myself a thousand, thousand times. I've split my very soul in two in an infinite amount, and loved it with every fibre of my being. I've loved, lost, howled and hated.
My sentence may have lasted 180 generations, it wasn't until I had served it, that I realised... I am one. The cruelty wasn't time, it was the knowledge that I've always been alone. Solitary confinement with nothing but myself to keep me company.
"So... How do you feel?"
"I feel everything. Nothing. I feel alone, yet I'm finally together. I would say I feel regret, your honour. But I don't. I finally feel complete."
"Good. You are free now."
| |
[Wp] Earth is a multigenerational prison created for Adam and Eve who were sentenced to 180 generations. You receive a message, along with the rest of the planet, that your time has been served and all will be teleported back to your mother planet. | There's a long history on our tiny blue mote of crazy old men living on the tops of mountains. Their reasons are not all the same, but in the end they are all looking for something else. Something outside the constructs of our societies.
Balthazar was a mountain hermit. If you asked him why, he would tell you it was to gain enlightenment. To achieve a higher state of knowledge. To be at one with nature. The reality was simpler, he hated Chad. That fucker stole his wife, stole his company, stole his family. Even stole his goddamned dog. Fuck Chad.
So Balthazar had done what he'd always done when faced with an impossible situation. He ran away. As far as he could, far from every one. And he sulked. He was very good at sulking. However, life on a mountain top was not all sunshine and bitterness: his daily chores demanded too much time away from his sulking.
He needed wood for his fire too keep him warm. Not a difficult task, his mountain was heavily wooded. But it was physical. And he hated physical work. Isolation had its price, and he paid it. Paid it so he could sulk, and be miserable. Balthazar was the worst kind of hermit.
It was on his way home from one of the many tasks he needed to complete to at least keep trying to be human, when he heard a completely alien noise. It was a popping sound that was not unlike giant sheets of industrial bubble wrap being twisted and popped at once. He frowned. He forgot how much he'd loved popping bubble wrap. Fuck Chad. He frowned again, the work had taken his mind off of his former partner, his former wife, his former life, his former dog. He would need to spend more time sulking to get back into his appropriate level of spite. He sat down, and closed his eyes.
Practicing his breathing, he tried to meditate. "I am breathing in one two three. I am breathing out one two three. Slowly, the mountain top faded to darkness as he watched his thoughts drift passed him. Some times he would hold on to one for a moment before letting it go and flow by. A smell caught his memory, and the face of Anna Kendrick filled his perspective. Shit.
"I'm leaving you Bal, I can't take this any more", he said. His wife did not look like Anna Kendrick. "You're such a miserable fuck. You blame every one else for your troubles. I'm not even going to pretend it's not you. It is. You drain every bit of pleasure out of your life and any one around you. Chad is taking control of the company so you don't drive it in to the ground. You've been lucky that he knows what he's doing. Chad..." The face of Anna Kendrick smiled in a way Balthazar recognised from their early relationship. A dreamy contented smile, followed by dreamy contented sigh.
"Fuck Chad!" Balthazar opened his eyes and stormed back to his pathetic little cabin at the top of the mountain. He had long since learned to tune out the beauty of the Vistas that surrounded him at every turn. And so he didn't notice the pillars of smoke rising in the distance, ink stains on nature's oil painting of dusk.
And he heard the popping again. Fucking Chad. Why was he always making his life worse? More popping, louder now. Finally it he realized that the sound was real, and not the memory of a sensory fetish he used to indulge in, and grew curious. He followed the sound right into the centre of his small, dark, dank, one room cottage. Cottage is a bit misleading though, as it was a structure he had build himself, by hand, reluctantly.
The object was glowing, and floating, and had an aura of effervescence. Like some one had carbonated the air it sat in because it's buoyancy was just enough to suspend it there. In the air. The carbonated air popped and fizzled like a fresh bottle of Dr. Pepper. None of that fountain drink crap. This was the kind of fizz you get out of a bottle. The glowing icon looked familiar. Like something he'd left behind. It was the size and shape of a folded price of paper, with blazing lines of fire crisscrossing it's surface. A red circle with a number 1 was over the top corner.
Instinctively, he reached out for it. And it disappeared when his fingers passed through the envelope.
"Greetings," a voice rang clearly in his ears, while text he didn't recognise, but still understood, burned in the air in front of him, "thank you for your stay on penal planet 34-RTH. With your generation, the sentence of 180 generations of multigenerational imprisonment has been fulfilled. Your ancestors debt to the Pan-Galactic Republic of Sentient Beings has been paid, and you will all be free to go. Please heed this time your species has spent in incarceration. It was a direct result of your progenitors willful and deliberate acts of self uplift, against the protocol set forth by the Awakening of Lower Beings Act of 4B65M-IMPCT. Individuals A-Dam, and E-Ve we imprisoned on 34-RTH for self uplift.
We of the PGRoSB would like to thank those you call Dolphins, Corvids (nee. Jackdaws), and Ants for their efforts in maintaining and guarding your people since the beginning of your incarceration.
What do you do now?
Your people will be be transported to the Centre for Re-integration at Tau Ceti Prime. There, you will have your memories and knowledge extracted, assessed, and reintegration, with inclusion of proper mores and behavior befitting a Pan-Galactic citizen. Once you have beeno processed, you will be assigned a purpose by one of our Big Floating Heads. They will have lived your life, and will place you where you will be most comfortable living out the remainder of your days. You will be placed in accordance with your strengths and capabilities. Some of you will be happy, some of you will even be given permission to continue breeding. Truly a seminal moment for your people!
Thank you again for your time on penal planet 34-RTH, please fill out the feed back form once your re-integration has be completed. Have a nice life, and welcome to the PGRoSB".
The voice and flaming letters faded. Balthazar collapsed on the floor of his hovel. This was not his first hallucination since retreating to the mountain top. It was the first one that didn't involve Chad. But this was something else completely.
Darkness filled his vision, and he saw unending space stretching before his tiny mind. Civilizations of untold numbers stretch across eons out away from Balthazar and his tiny hill on his tiny blue dot. He would never see the earth again. | 180 was the number of generations
Who have walked the Earth since Eve's temptation
When the number was reached
An angel had a message delivered
Thereby sending humanity
Into a spiral of insanity
Even the mere existence of their jailers
Was a subject for debaters
.
And after humanity had finished their pondering
The hitherto forbidden world they started exploring
Alas, dreadfully lacking were the tools and abilities to do so
And humanity started to miss the comfort of the Earth, long ago
Without it's set routine and lovely hospitality
What is there left to do for humanity?
| |
[Wp] Earth is a multigenerational prison created for Adam and Eve who were sentenced to 180 generations. You receive a message, along with the rest of the planet, that your time has been served and all will be teleported back to your mother planet. | We came down a few rotations after the message was sent, flying down through smoggy air and tall structures that seemed far too frivolous for just two people.
These guys had been *busy*.
That's when we saw them. All of them. We did a quick numbers check, gasped, and did another.
I radioed HQ for advice.
"What do you mean there's 10 billion of them?"
We had no response to that. There had just been two of them, both of the opposite sex. There was no possible way that they could reproduce, it was unheard of.
That's when we saw all the flora and fauna on the rest of the planet. Sexual reproduction. Go figure. Our scientists would have a field day.
We quickly established contact with their world leaders, told them of the situation, and if they could kindly hand over their progenitors for release. They practically laughed at us.
The Terrans have short lifespans as a result of the oxygen rich atmosphere in which they thrive and depend upon. Already our ship was pinging warnings about corrosion to our instruments.
This planet was deadly. It had ultimately killed the prisoners it was allocated to imprison. And yet here their children were, flourishing.
We didn't know what to do. We did the only thing we could do.
"False Alarm HQ, problem with the instruments. The prisoners managed to escape the planet, are now searching rest of the galactic system." | I've been on earth longer than I care to remember. I have seen the rise and fall of empires. I have seen the rise and fall of endless, ridiculous internet trends. My name is Nathan and I'm am just so sick of it all.
I am cursed with longevity. My great, great, whatever grandfather was Noah. Yes, the Noah, built some fucking boat, saved a few animals, now he's famous. There is debate in the family about whether he stole the boat plans from his cousin or not. I think he did. Either way, I was cursed by his blood with longevity.
I have no wish to be part of some new ark on some new planet. I'm old, I've seen all I want to see, I will not allow myself to be teleported. | |
[Wp] Earth is a multigenerational prison created for Adam and Eve who were sentenced to 180 generations. You receive a message, along with the rest of the planet, that your time has been served and all will be teleported back to your mother planet. | "It explains a lot."
"You're turning all philosopher on me now?" I said. I downed my beer and asked the bartender for another. Between serving, he was watching the usual Red Sox shenanigans on the wall-mounted TV. As a Brit living in Boston, Massachusetts, for ten years, I'd never got used to the sweet light beer Americans served up in their traditional bars. How I longed for a good pint of crafted British real ale. Still if I complained I'd probably just be asked to fix my teeth.
Besides, one: tonight was definitely the night for getting drunk.
Besides, two: you don't mess with your fellow inmates.
I snickered to myself at that. The bald, fat dope sitting at the corner of the bar, trying to engage me in conversation, resumed his fanciful theories.
"Yeah, it explains a lot," Fat Boy said. "Why it's always been so fuckin' impossible to be happy in this life. Think about it."
I sighed, received my third bottle of Bud gratefully, and made the necessary gesture for the bartender to get my new friend one.
"I mean you get married, all you get is shit all your life. You work hard all your life, all you get is shit. Money don't buy you happiness. All you get is a load of fuckin' responsibility comes with it."
Polishing a glass, the bartender nodded miserably.
"All I'm saying," Fat Boy continued, "is it's no fuckin' surprise it turns out we've been living in a prison all this time. Life sucks. Why shouldn't it all be a prison? I bet Trump knew too. I bet Trump was leading up to telling us just before the presidential election."
Jesus.
“Not that there’ll be an election now, of course,” he said, somberly, before perking up again at the Bud I'd bought him. "Thanks. You're British, right?"
No, I'm fuckin' Canadian, I thought-replied in my best Johnny Lydon.
"Excuse me," I said instead, "I need to get some air."
I negotiated the pool tables, the clash of balls only reinforcing my sudden nausea. I staggered for the exit, drunk on my own misery. All around the walls were hung bright red banners advertising PREXIT: The Last Party on Earth. The Day Before Release: 8/21/2016.
PREXIT, really? The Americans were putting a gloss on it, like most things where they could make the odd dollar. It was as if the mass teleportation of 7.4 billion people into the intergalactic unknown was just another Disney adventure to them.
It was then I bumped into her. The girl with whom I would later bring four children into the world. Except this world would long ago have turned into a dystopian wasteland. Our lives would become a daily fight for survival in a city that would come to more resemble Stalingrad than the crown of Massachusetts.
Of course I didn’t know all that now.
“Sorry,” I said. Our bottles had clinked in the soft collision.
“That’s okay,” she said. “You going?” She had noticed my blankly gazing at the banner.
The girl was pretty. 20s. Blonde. Of course, nice teeth: she was American.
“Er, I dunno.”
“You must go,” she said. “Why are you Brits always so damned miserable?”
“We can never afford the dental fees.”
She laughed. Transferring her bottle of Coors, she proffered a delicate right hand to shake. I was attracted like a magpie by the elegant little silver bracelet she wore.
“Paula,” she said. “Paula Revere. No jokes, please.”
“Too late,” I said. “The aliens are coming.”
She laughed again.
“I’m Greg. Greg Orr. Can I get you a drink?”
“Later, maybe,” she said. “I’m with friends over in the corner.”
Suddenly we both ducked and fell into each other’s arms as a thunderous roar boomed just above the street outside. The bar’s front windows shattered. Screams from inside and outside.
It was as if a jet fighter plane had suddenly performed a strafing dive the entire length of Broadway.
But that was no jet fighter. Black, sleek and deadly, I recognized the spaceship even as I glimpsed it only peripherally.
Our new prison guards were reminding us that they were in charge here. And would remain so until everyone had been teleported off Earth. Either alive or in coffins.
Somehow I felt a Prexit party celebration would be premature. Still, the warmth and smell of Paula’s body, her proximity, was unerringly pleasurable.
These humans could indeed be comforting to the senses.
| I've been on earth longer than I care to remember. I have seen the rise and fall of empires. I have seen the rise and fall of endless, ridiculous internet trends. My name is Nathan and I'm am just so sick of it all.
I am cursed with longevity. My great, great, whatever grandfather was Noah. Yes, the Noah, built some fucking boat, saved a few animals, now he's famous. There is debate in the family about whether he stole the boat plans from his cousin or not. I think he did. Either way, I was cursed by his blood with longevity.
I have no wish to be part of some new ark on some new planet. I'm old, I've seen all I want to see, I will not allow myself to be teleported. | |
[WP] The entirety of humanity becomes caught in a shared "Groundhog Day" style time loop. Millions of cycles later the effect wears off but what has become of humanity in the interim? | As thousands of users watched the timer go down, everyone held their breath. When it suddenly back up all the way.
"Who the hell!?" was heard, screamed onto the online voice channel.
"It's Jack. His title just changed."
"We agreed for no one to do it again..."
At the timer ticked down again, it reached a point it never did. So close to the end, the decimals showed. 1.1 second. 0.8 second. Half a second. A quarter. Then, the timer ended. *Thank you for your cooperation* showed the browser window, the timer flashing 0.0 seconds.
Then, the world turned white.
*****
*Buzz buzz buzz*
My alarm woke me up, like always. As I looked at the time, I realized it was 8 in the morning. I had only a few moments to reach my computer.
"Welcome." said the robotic voice in my headset. "Connecting to chatroom..."
"Here's our savior." said someone in the chatroom.
"Hey everyone. Sorry, I'm late. How's the timer?"
"15 seconds left. I hope you have your page ready."
"I didn't close my computer just so the page could stay up." I said, my cursor hovering over the UI element. "Clicking at 2 seconds."
"And... 58 seconds more to the timer. If we keep at it, we should be able to have close to two years and a half this time around."
"After so many cycles, it would be time. Good luck, boys, I'll be back tonight for my watch."
*****
"What's up boys?" I said as I entered the chatroom.
The room remained silent.
"Anyone here?" I tried again.
A single message came in. *Check the page*
"What's this masquerad- WHAT?!"
*The experiment is over. Thanks for participating.*
"It's been like that for 5 minutes now." finally replied someone in the room.
"So... it's over? We are free?"
"I will officially announce it in 5 minutes. The Button has freed us..."
*(When I read the title, I had to do a reddit meta.)* | I'd watched it all, from on high. They all woke up, in the same places. Very few of them were still sane. They'd done horrible things. First they'd raped, murdered and pillaged. Then they'd worked together to try and get out. Then, the human spirit mandated that they go back to the age-old pastime of rape and pillage.
I'd watched them all. 3,650,000 cycles. Enough for every test we could devise. But it was up. I played the cycle for the final time. They woke up, eyes wide, irises spilling almost to the edges of their eyes. And collapsed. They saw a slightly different morning, but they'd lived ten thousand years. Their minds and bodies were dust. *Ah well, more work for the janitors.* | |
[WP] The entirety of humanity becomes caught in a shared "Groundhog Day" style time loop. Millions of cycles later the effect wears off but what has become of humanity in the interim? | It took a long time for us to realize what was going on, much less accept it. But the evidence was just undeniable. People who boarded planes in one city and landed in another would wake up the next morning in the same city that they had just departed. People who died later in the day would wake up the next morning like nothing happened.
After this had been going on for months, the Russian president one day launched his nukes at us. We responded in kind. The world had ended in a nuclear holocaust. But the next morning, we all woke up in our beds like as though nothing had happened. From that day onward, every day was February 29th.
That was the day when I realized something. Each of us in our own way, and some more than others, had become gods. How else would you describe beings who no longer had to worry about consequences?
I don't remember how long this has been going on. I stopped counting after the 36,500th day. For all I know, I could be thousands of years old now, but I don't look a day over 36.
I used to be an accountant. Once upon a time. But it's been so long since I've worked that I wouldn't be able to draw you a current account balance sheet now even if my life depended on it. I guess I should be glad that my life doesn't depend on it.
It wasn't always like this. At first, we went to work like we always did. But do you have any idea how difficult accounting can get when every single note and record that you had made the previous day no longer exists when you wake up? Working just became pointless. We all worked to be able to afford to live. But when affording to live no longer became a motivational factor, most people no longer found the motivation to work.
There were some holdouts. There's this one priest in our neighborhood who always goes to church every day to pray and hear people's confessions. Now that must have been quite something. I don't know what those people's sins were before all this happened; maybe skipping the Sabbath or something, but when the fear of death no longer mattered, people began to do all kinds of crazy things.
Take me for example. I was a mild mannered accountant whose existence was something most people would never have noticed. But I started doing hard drugs, fucking random prostitutes and strangers out in public in the middle of the day, and even kicked a puppy to death. And that was within the first month of when this started. If you think you've seen human depravity, you haven't.
I've killed, been killed, raped, been raped, mauled, been mauled, I've flown high on cocaine and once literally drowned in a vat of beer. But we weren't all depraved. At least not all the time. Thing is, after a while, even having a threesome with the hot Peterson twins that live across the street while their mother watched got boring.
We all sought fun and something new. But when you live the same day for thousands of years, well, nothing's new anymore, which means nothing's fun anymore. So, after years of debauchery, which would have made the people of Sodom and Gomorrah think we were being too much, some of us even began to pursue higher knowledge.
I learned a great deal throughout all this time. I learned to speak multiple languages, learned to play the piano, and though it took me a long time, I finally understood cricket! I never thought I'd get cricket. Well, at least I understood cricket before I eventually forgot it again. Time's a bitch. Even if it stands still.
But even that got boring. Everything got boring. And there was no way out.
All of that changed yesterday.
Yesterday, I walked out of my home. I had not even bothered to tie up my robe even if my manhood was swinging for all the world to see. It wouldn't have been the first time any of them had seen it anyway. I walked out and saw my neighbor about to jump off his roof.
"Morning, Fred," I said.
"Morning, John," he replied.
"Turning in early today?"
"Yep."
He jumped off the roof, not for the first time, which was followed by a splat. I knew exactly how his body would have twisted in every angle and which orifice blood was pouring out from. I had seen it all before countless times.
I continued to walk to the liquor store, smashed the window with a rock, picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels, walked over to Jill's house, got drunk and my dick sucked, then went home. Sitting in the darkness by yourself without talking to anyone can sometimes be the best way to spend the day. One time, I decided to get adventurous and meet new people only to end up getting crucified. Literally. People can be sick. And it's not like as though it doesn't hurt. Just because you wake up the next day at home like as though it never happened doesn't mean that getting your hands and feet nailed to a cross doesn't hurt like a motherfucker.
Today, however, was different. I woke up, walked out of my home without bothering to tie up my robe even if my manhood was swinging for all the world to see, and said good morning to Fred while walking to the liquor store but then something caught my attention. Fred's broken body was still lying on the ground. And he reeked. Flies were buzzing around him. That has never happened before.
I rushed back into my house and turned on the radio. I had not listened to the news in a very long time but I still remembered how to change the radio station. It was all over the news. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people who died yesterday were discovered dead today.
It was official. It was finally March 1st. And for the first time in an incredibly long time, I felt something that I had long given up on. I felt happy. And I knew what I was going to do. I quickly walked back to my room and opened my closet. On the top shelf was an old shoe box where I kept my gun.
I was ready. But apparently I wasn't the only person to think this way. While I was rummaging the box for bullets, I heard several gunshots come from the twins' house. Everyone was choosing to die. We had all lived thousands of lifetimes, did everything, and did everyone. There was nothing new left. The only thing that made any of us happy anymore was the fact that we no longer had to live.
Right before I was about to pull the trigger, my last thought was whether that priest would kill himself, too. | I remember it well. The first time it happened. Everyone was confused - and why wouldn't they be? Such an unbelievable event to occur in real life, usually restricted to just movies and fantasies.
For the entire universe hiccuped, repeating itself over again.
Married men woke up once again with their mistresses, vacation days were relived, second chances were had by 7.4 billion people... and it seemed like a good thing.
But that notion was not to last.
New mothers gave birth... screaming in agony day after day after day. Eventually, they asked the doctors to simply put them under full anesthesia every midnight, killing their child. What did it matter? It would all reverse in 24 hours...
Those in prison went mad, their existences and hopes for freedom crushed even smaller than the speck of light it once was, for it was now eternal.
And worst of all?
I do it every day. Assure him it's all right. But it's not all right, and I am not all right.
He's not all right.
Every day...
I watch my son die.
**Thanks for reading! Please upvote if you liked it, and tell me what you liked about it! If you didn't, tell me how I can do better next time.** | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | The man laughed and asked again, "So, how was Heaven?"
This time, I was able to slightly close my mouth in response.
"I... It..."
I looked around. If it weren't for the lack of people, I could have sworn I was standing in California. Maybe I was in a coma? I hadn't been in The Golden State for years, when I had quit a dead-end job and started traveling as a journalist.
The man nodded. "Take a look at the ground. It really is golden."
All right, I knew what was happening. I was in a coma and having a conversation with my conscience.
"Look, I don't regret leaving and I never will. Sure, you can try and guilt me into missing someone, but I made a decision and I'm proud of it."
A sad look came into the man's eye.
"Yes, you made a decision. I envy you."
I sat down. No use standing, even if my body was asleep.
The man sighed.
"You don't get it, do you? On Earth, you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. Sure, sometimes you made a bad choice, but that was half the fun, wasn't it?"
He hesitated.
"Take journalism. You loved the thrill of sneaking into a country, learning a new language, hiding from the censors."
He stepped over to me and slapped me. I recoiled instinctively, but instead of pain I felt nothing.
"Here, there's no risk, no pain, no reward. Everyone understands each other. Everyone accepts your views."
He sighed again.
"I loved to surf. In fact, I was killed by a rogue wave. Up here, the water is always perfect and calm, and if you do convince God to make you some waves, they're all small and slow moving. Plus, since there's no danger, we don't even produce adrenaline anymore."
All his talking was making me a little bit bored, but somehow I couldn't get angry at him. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to block out his strangely pleasant voice.
"Oh," he whispered. "You can't sleep. I mean, you can, but you don't need to, and it's always sunny. Also, you won't dream because what's better than heaven?"
He laughed strangely.
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
"What *can* I do, then?"
"Well, you can memorize all of human knowledge, but with infinite time and no problems to use your knowledge *on*, it's kind of a waste. You could travel, but everything you could ever want is provided, so there's no point to that either. You could talk to people, but eventually you'll have talked to all of them."
He shrugged.
"I spend most of my time sitting here and staring off into space. That's why you don't see anyone around here - they've all gotten so bored that they just sit inside and meditate."
"There must be *something* fun to do. Can you meet God?"
"Well, yes, you *can*. But he's so much smarter than all of us that after a while your head starts to hurt. Figuratively, of course."
"When people talked about Heaven on Earth, I never thought..."
The man smiled.
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Plus, at least you're not in Hell. Imagine this, except you have to stay in your cubicle and you *always* have a deadline coming up. And the AC is broken."
| "Ah, shit, we've got another one back."
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
"So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?"
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
"It was...something else," I said.
"Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return." He took a sip of his wine. "So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go back?"
"Well, we can't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good...fifteen minutes."
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. "Where's my family?"
"Well-paid." He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. "Why don't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable."
"I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it."
The robe-wearing man chuckled. "Of course you are. The beauty of it is...*I* won't. Try to be more specific with the details next time."
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
"Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond."
He tightened the pinch. "Money can buy you a lot of things. But it can't cure this...ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence."
I grimaced. "And that makes kidnapping OK."
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. "A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours."
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
"Administer the sedative," the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
"I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket."
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | I feel like I should be disorientated, but I simply feel nothing. I am aware that someone is standing in front of me, but I do not see them with my eyes. I have no eyes at all, but yet I know they are there. More than that, I know what they are wearing. I know what they look like. I can not see, but I can sense their presence. It is quite surreal, as if I am less of a physical being and more of a conscience, free of the confines of a body. Suddenly, the man speaks:
----------------------------------------------------
"How was Heaven?"
-----------------------------------------------------
I am not quite sure what to feel. I first experience a sharp pang of regret, which was then followed by confusion. Where am I? Why am I here? Why am I anywhere? As an atheist, I expected.. well I am not quite sure what I expected when I died. Blackness? Nothingness? My point being, I was certainly not prepared to learn that what I had just left behind was actually heaven. The man patiently waits for my response:
------------------
"Heaven?"
"Yes, how did you enjoy Heaven?"
"...So if that was Heaven, what is this place?"
"We'll get to that, but first answer me; how did you enjoy Heaven?"
"Why am I here, am I in hell?"
"You are exactly where you are and where you are is exactly where you belong. Now, I will ask once more. Did you enjoy Heaven?"
----------------------------
My life flashes before my eyes in a disorientating blur of emotions and memories. Nostalgia hits me like a truck as I think back on my family. My mother's loving face consuming my vision right after my birth. Happiness. What I would discover to be short-lived happiness. My panic as I cowered in the corner of the room, listening to my parents beg for their lives. The sound of gunshots that haunted me for the rest of my life. An instant passes and I was now the one staring down the barrel of a gun, a gun that delivered me to my strange conversation with the man in robes.
--------
"..No, no I did not enjoy "Heaven". In fact, I would be much more likely to brand that life as Hell than I would Heaven."
"Very well. It has been pleasant speaking with you. Goodbye." The man abruptly turns and starts to walk away. I sense him receding and frantically yell after him, "Wait! What do I do now?"
He turns and I feel him intensely staring at me. "You start anew and try to find the happiness in this life that you could not find in your last. Only when you realize yourself that life is Heaven, then will you have peace. Until then, you will try once again."
Processing this, I start to feel a burning sensation within me. Some innate sense tells me my time is running short and I ask one final question of the mysterious man in robes: "Again? How many lives have I lived?"
He seems to ever so slightly grin and cryptically responds, "Very few compared to how many some require."
-------------------------------
My mind melts and I know only pain as my eyes adjust to an astonishingly bright light that consumes my new vision.
"It's a baby boy!" | "Ah, shit, we've got another one back."
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
"So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?"
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
"It was...something else," I said.
"Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return." He took a sip of his wine. "So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go back?"
"Well, we can't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good...fifteen minutes."
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. "Where's my family?"
"Well-paid." He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. "Why don't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable."
"I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it."
The robe-wearing man chuckled. "Of course you are. The beauty of it is...*I* won't. Try to be more specific with the details next time."
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
"Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond."
He tightened the pinch. "Money can buy you a lot of things. But it can't cure this...ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence."
I grimaced. "And that makes kidnapping OK."
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. "A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours."
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
"Administer the sedative," the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
"I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket."
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | My brain churned, trying to process this newfound information. "What, you mean life on earth? *That* shit was heaven?" God was an asshole for greeting me with such nonchalance, as if I ought to have already known. Wasn't this a rhetorical question, anyway? Shouldn't he have already known my opinion? In which case, I was fucked, because I was currently thinking about how much Heaven had sucked, and not even fear of God's omniscience was going to block out these thoughts.
"Well, it used to be earth, but we rebranded." God shrugged. "Our initial structure was flawed: only three realms for an infinite spectrum of morality? It wasn't fair to group your everyman with your Mother Theresa."
"Actually, Mother Theresa was a monster—" I began.
"Look, who's setting the rules, you or me?" God raised a pointed eyebrow, daring me to contest him. "Drop this wishy-washy secular humanism; it's not going to work in Superheaven." He noticed my look of confusion and added, "The level above heaven. It's more or less the same, except you actually have to go to church now."
My brain retched as hundreds of sleepy Sunday memories passed through it. God's facial expression didn't change; either he couldn't read my mind or he'd evolved beyond the confines of human body language. It was starting to bother me: how dismissive and cold he was. "Are there no other choices? "Other religions?" He shook his head, frowning. "Hell?"
"Why would you want to go to Hell?"
*In hopes Satan is cooler than you*, I thought. "Change of scenery," I said.
"Well, Hell doesn't exist," God said, beckoning me forward through the clouds, "We rebranded that too. It's now called Minor Heaven, and you can go there, but it's objectively inferior to Heaven and the realms above it. Observe." He snapped his fingers and a small model of earth began to revolve in the air. Then half of it burst into flames.
"What do you mean, you rebranded Hell?" Wasn't Hell supposed to act as a deterrent from sinning? What was the point of grouping it under the Heaven umbrella?
"Well, some people had a problem with the existence of Hell under a supposedly all-merciful god." God sighed and rubbed his temples. "Not that I ever promised to be merciful, but you know how humans are: they'll misquote you and hold you to it." He stopped and stamped the floor, summoning a rickety set of stairs that led into the sky. As he led me up them, he continued, "So, to get them off my back, I acquired Hell from Lucifer, renamed it, and everything's now fine and dandy. It's not like humans can tell they're in Hell, anyway." He chuckled. "You and your inability to comprehend greater dimensions."
"That doesn't sound very kosher, if I'm being honest." I said. God ignored me and continued climbing; I thought to turn and run the other direction, but the stairs behind me had vanished. I sighed and trudged onward; the steps seemed to go on for miles, and the fatigue and all the whiteness began to disorient me. After a while, I could no longer tell what direction I was heading; all I could do was follow the stairs.
I finally set foot on the landing, where a glowing red doorway stood, framing the rippling image of an entire realm behind it. "Welcome to the next realm of Heaven," God said, nudging me through. He left briskly, slamming the door shut behind him, perhaps still irritated with all of my questions.
My past life's memories began to die as I stepped through the doorway. Before they had completely faded, I noticed, at least, that my surroundings seemed distinctly earthly: the trees, the grass, the sun; nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save for one alarming difference. Panic surged through me, but the moment passed, and I could no longer remember why everything was on fire. | "Ah, shit, we've got another one back."
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
"So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?"
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
"It was...something else," I said.
"Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return." He took a sip of his wine. "So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go back?"
"Well, we can't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good...fifteen minutes."
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. "Where's my family?"
"Well-paid." He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. "Why don't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable."
"I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it."
The robe-wearing man chuckled. "Of course you are. The beauty of it is...*I* won't. Try to be more specific with the details next time."
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
"Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond."
He tightened the pinch. "Money can buy you a lot of things. But it can't cure this...ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence."
I grimaced. "And that makes kidnapping OK."
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. "A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours."
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
"Administer the sedative," the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
"I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket."
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | It took so much to squint at the man standing in front of me. At first I thought he might be a hallucination – people said occurrences like these happened with the procedure.
Beatifically smiling, he came into focus. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. I knew where I was and what that meant.
“Damn.”
I wish my first words to my maker would have been more...eloquent. He just beamed back at me.
He reached out his hand, or what I thought was his hand. Things still weren't totally clear. As he lifted me up, he took a breath to ask me a question.
It had been a 6 hour surgery. She needed part of a liver, and there wasn't a moment I could remember where I didn't know it was going to be mine. Fair is fair, she took my heart 13 years earlier. She always laughed when I called it a matching set.
I didn't make it.
She did.
“How was heaven” he asked, dusting off my back.
“She was amazing.”
“Good,” he replied “we have all eternity to talk about her.”
He threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. He let out a chuckle.
“Matching set. That was funny.” | "Ah, shit, we've got another one back."
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
"So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?"
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
"It was...something else," I said.
"Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return." He took a sip of his wine. "So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go back?"
"Well, we can't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good...fifteen minutes."
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. "Where's my family?"
"Well-paid." He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. "Why don't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable."
"I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it."
The robe-wearing man chuckled. "Of course you are. The beauty of it is...*I* won't. Try to be more specific with the details next time."
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
"Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond."
He tightened the pinch. "Money can buy you a lot of things. But it can't cure this...ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence."
I grimaced. "And that makes kidnapping OK."
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. "A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours."
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
"Administer the sedative," the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
"I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket."
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | I feel like I should be disorientated, but I simply feel nothing. I am aware that someone is standing in front of me, but I do not see them with my eyes. I have no eyes at all, but yet I know they are there. More than that, I know what they are wearing. I know what they look like. I can not see, but I can sense their presence. It is quite surreal, as if I am less of a physical being and more of a conscience, free of the confines of a body. Suddenly, the man speaks:
----------------------------------------------------
"How was Heaven?"
-----------------------------------------------------
I am not quite sure what to feel. I first experience a sharp pang of regret, which was then followed by confusion. Where am I? Why am I here? Why am I anywhere? As an atheist, I expected.. well I am not quite sure what I expected when I died. Blackness? Nothingness? My point being, I was certainly not prepared to learn that what I had just left behind was actually heaven. The man patiently waits for my response:
------------------
"Heaven?"
"Yes, how did you enjoy Heaven?"
"...So if that was Heaven, what is this place?"
"We'll get to that, but first answer me; how did you enjoy Heaven?"
"Why am I here, am I in hell?"
"You are exactly where you are and where you are is exactly where you belong. Now, I will ask once more. Did you enjoy Heaven?"
----------------------------
My life flashes before my eyes in a disorientating blur of emotions and memories. Nostalgia hits me like a truck as I think back on my family. My mother's loving face consuming my vision right after my birth. Happiness. What I would discover to be short-lived happiness. My panic as I cowered in the corner of the room, listening to my parents beg for their lives. The sound of gunshots that haunted me for the rest of my life. An instant passes and I was now the one staring down the barrel of a gun, a gun that delivered me to my strange conversation with the man in robes.
--------
"..No, no I did not enjoy "Heaven". In fact, I would be much more likely to brand that life as Hell than I would Heaven."
"Very well. It has been pleasant speaking with you. Goodbye." The man abruptly turns and starts to walk away. I sense him receding and frantically yell after him, "Wait! What do I do now?"
He turns and I feel him intensely staring at me. "You start anew and try to find the happiness in this life that you could not find in your last. Only when you realize yourself that life is Heaven, then will you have peace. Until then, you will try once again."
Processing this, I start to feel a burning sensation within me. Some innate sense tells me my time is running short and I ask one final question of the mysterious man in robes: "Again? How many lives have I lived?"
He seems to ever so slightly grin and cryptically responds, "Very few compared to how many some require."
-------------------------------
My mind melts and I know only pain as my eyes adjust to an astonishingly bright light that consumes my new vision.
"It's a baby boy!" | Even though I've already died once before, the crunch of a bone snapped from impact still brings a deep sickness to my gut. At first I twist my head to let it all come out, but as I do I see a pair of pale feet in a pair of sandals. I twist away further to avoid expelling my last mortal meal between his toes.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"How was it? Heaven I mean," he says.
"Have you ever asked someone how their entire life was?"
"You act like I haven't," he says.
Still a little queasy, I sit up. My leg is an attic coat hanger, mangled and thin. Curiously I prod it and feel the need to twist away once more, but I overcome the urges. The pain is of body. When I look to the sky there are clouds are no longer below my feet but miles above me in a serene blue afternoon.
"Second chance," he says.
"Why though?" I ask.
"Why not?"
He smiles. The sort of you from a father when his son grasps that diploma. Or upon meeting eyes with his wife beneath a veil of white and beside a man in black reading from a book. It's a smile that says the rest of a life is in front of him. He folds his hands in front of him and, with the gentlest of nods, motions towards a set of cement towers with windows that reflect white in the sun.
"How long has it been down here, you think?" he asks. He raises his hand as if there's a watch there, but his robe peels back to reveal only skin. His smile vanishes. "Go on."
I turn my head towards the city. It feels like it's been a very long time, but I'm here. This is me. There's no grave. No casket. I really want to go back up there, it was so nice and comforting. But if there's one thing everyone wants, if there's one thing people ask of this man every second of every day, either for them or a loved one, it's a second chance.
"Okay, but can you call an ambulance first? For my leg," I say. "It really hurts." | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | My brain churned, trying to process this newfound information. "What, you mean life on earth? *That* shit was heaven?" God was an asshole for greeting me with such nonchalance, as if I ought to have already known. Wasn't this a rhetorical question, anyway? Shouldn't he have already known my opinion? In which case, I was fucked, because I was currently thinking about how much Heaven had sucked, and not even fear of God's omniscience was going to block out these thoughts.
"Well, it used to be earth, but we rebranded." God shrugged. "Our initial structure was flawed: only three realms for an infinite spectrum of morality? It wasn't fair to group your everyman with your Mother Theresa."
"Actually, Mother Theresa was a monster—" I began.
"Look, who's setting the rules, you or me?" God raised a pointed eyebrow, daring me to contest him. "Drop this wishy-washy secular humanism; it's not going to work in Superheaven." He noticed my look of confusion and added, "The level above heaven. It's more or less the same, except you actually have to go to church now."
My brain retched as hundreds of sleepy Sunday memories passed through it. God's facial expression didn't change; either he couldn't read my mind or he'd evolved beyond the confines of human body language. It was starting to bother me: how dismissive and cold he was. "Are there no other choices? "Other religions?" He shook his head, frowning. "Hell?"
"Why would you want to go to Hell?"
*In hopes Satan is cooler than you*, I thought. "Change of scenery," I said.
"Well, Hell doesn't exist," God said, beckoning me forward through the clouds, "We rebranded that too. It's now called Minor Heaven, and you can go there, but it's objectively inferior to Heaven and the realms above it. Observe." He snapped his fingers and a small model of earth began to revolve in the air. Then half of it burst into flames.
"What do you mean, you rebranded Hell?" Wasn't Hell supposed to act as a deterrent from sinning? What was the point of grouping it under the Heaven umbrella?
"Well, some people had a problem with the existence of Hell under a supposedly all-merciful god." God sighed and rubbed his temples. "Not that I ever promised to be merciful, but you know how humans are: they'll misquote you and hold you to it." He stopped and stamped the floor, summoning a rickety set of stairs that led into the sky. As he led me up them, he continued, "So, to get them off my back, I acquired Hell from Lucifer, renamed it, and everything's now fine and dandy. It's not like humans can tell they're in Hell, anyway." He chuckled. "You and your inability to comprehend greater dimensions."
"That doesn't sound very kosher, if I'm being honest." I said. God ignored me and continued climbing; I thought to turn and run the other direction, but the stairs behind me had vanished. I sighed and trudged onward; the steps seemed to go on for miles, and the fatigue and all the whiteness began to disorient me. After a while, I could no longer tell what direction I was heading; all I could do was follow the stairs.
I finally set foot on the landing, where a glowing red doorway stood, framing the rippling image of an entire realm behind it. "Welcome to the next realm of Heaven," God said, nudging me through. He left briskly, slamming the door shut behind him, perhaps still irritated with all of my questions.
My past life's memories began to die as I stepped through the doorway. Before they had completely faded, I noticed, at least, that my surroundings seemed distinctly earthly: the trees, the grass, the sun; nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save for one alarming difference. Panic surged through me, but the moment passed, and I could no longer remember why everything was on fire. | Even though I've already died once before, the crunch of a bone snapped from impact still brings a deep sickness to my gut. At first I twist my head to let it all come out, but as I do I see a pair of pale feet in a pair of sandals. I twist away further to avoid expelling my last mortal meal between his toes.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"How was it? Heaven I mean," he says.
"Have you ever asked someone how their entire life was?"
"You act like I haven't," he says.
Still a little queasy, I sit up. My leg is an attic coat hanger, mangled and thin. Curiously I prod it and feel the need to twist away once more, but I overcome the urges. The pain is of body. When I look to the sky there are clouds are no longer below my feet but miles above me in a serene blue afternoon.
"Second chance," he says.
"Why though?" I ask.
"Why not?"
He smiles. The sort of you from a father when his son grasps that diploma. Or upon meeting eyes with his wife beneath a veil of white and beside a man in black reading from a book. It's a smile that says the rest of a life is in front of him. He folds his hands in front of him and, with the gentlest of nods, motions towards a set of cement towers with windows that reflect white in the sun.
"How long has it been down here, you think?" he asks. He raises his hand as if there's a watch there, but his robe peels back to reveal only skin. His smile vanishes. "Go on."
I turn my head towards the city. It feels like it's been a very long time, but I'm here. This is me. There's no grave. No casket. I really want to go back up there, it was so nice and comforting. But if there's one thing everyone wants, if there's one thing people ask of this man every second of every day, either for them or a loved one, it's a second chance.
"Okay, but can you call an ambulance first? For my leg," I say. "It really hurts." | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | It took so much to squint at the man standing in front of me. At first I thought he might be a hallucination – people said occurrences like these happened with the procedure.
Beatifically smiling, he came into focus. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. I knew where I was and what that meant.
“Damn.”
I wish my first words to my maker would have been more...eloquent. He just beamed back at me.
He reached out his hand, or what I thought was his hand. Things still weren't totally clear. As he lifted me up, he took a breath to ask me a question.
It had been a 6 hour surgery. She needed part of a liver, and there wasn't a moment I could remember where I didn't know it was going to be mine. Fair is fair, she took my heart 13 years earlier. She always laughed when I called it a matching set.
I didn't make it.
She did.
“How was heaven” he asked, dusting off my back.
“She was amazing.”
“Good,” he replied “we have all eternity to talk about her.”
He threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. He let out a chuckle.
“Matching set. That was funny.” | Even though I've already died once before, the crunch of a bone snapped from impact still brings a deep sickness to my gut. At first I twist my head to let it all come out, but as I do I see a pair of pale feet in a pair of sandals. I twist away further to avoid expelling my last mortal meal between his toes.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"How was it? Heaven I mean," he says.
"Have you ever asked someone how their entire life was?"
"You act like I haven't," he says.
Still a little queasy, I sit up. My leg is an attic coat hanger, mangled and thin. Curiously I prod it and feel the need to twist away once more, but I overcome the urges. The pain is of body. When I look to the sky there are clouds are no longer below my feet but miles above me in a serene blue afternoon.
"Second chance," he says.
"Why though?" I ask.
"Why not?"
He smiles. The sort of you from a father when his son grasps that diploma. Or upon meeting eyes with his wife beneath a veil of white and beside a man in black reading from a book. It's a smile that says the rest of a life is in front of him. He folds his hands in front of him and, with the gentlest of nods, motions towards a set of cement towers with windows that reflect white in the sun.
"How long has it been down here, you think?" he asks. He raises his hand as if there's a watch there, but his robe peels back to reveal only skin. His smile vanishes. "Go on."
I turn my head towards the city. It feels like it's been a very long time, but I'm here. This is me. There's no grave. No casket. I really want to go back up there, it was so nice and comforting. But if there's one thing everyone wants, if there's one thing people ask of this man every second of every day, either for them or a loved one, it's a second chance.
"Okay, but can you call an ambulance first? For my leg," I say. "It really hurts." | |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | It took so much to squint at the man standing in front of me. At first I thought he might be a hallucination – people said occurrences like these happened with the procedure.
Beatifically smiling, he came into focus. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. I knew where I was and what that meant.
“Damn.”
I wish my first words to my maker would have been more...eloquent. He just beamed back at me.
He reached out his hand, or what I thought was his hand. Things still weren't totally clear. As he lifted me up, he took a breath to ask me a question.
It had been a 6 hour surgery. She needed part of a liver, and there wasn't a moment I could remember where I didn't know it was going to be mine. Fair is fair, she took my heart 13 years earlier. She always laughed when I called it a matching set.
I didn't make it.
She did.
“How was heaven” he asked, dusting off my back.
“She was amazing.”
“Good,” he replied “we have all eternity to talk about her.”
He threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. He let out a chuckle.
“Matching set. That was funny.” | My brain churned, trying to process this newfound information. "What, you mean life on earth? *That* shit was heaven?" God was an asshole for greeting me with such nonchalance, as if I ought to have already known. Wasn't this a rhetorical question, anyway? Shouldn't he have already known my opinion? In which case, I was fucked, because I was currently thinking about how much Heaven had sucked, and not even fear of God's omniscience was going to block out these thoughts.
"Well, it used to be earth, but we rebranded." God shrugged. "Our initial structure was flawed: only three realms for an infinite spectrum of morality? It wasn't fair to group your everyman with your Mother Theresa."
"Actually, Mother Theresa was a monster—" I began.
"Look, who's setting the rules, you or me?" God raised a pointed eyebrow, daring me to contest him. "Drop this wishy-washy secular humanism; it's not going to work in Superheaven." He noticed my look of confusion and added, "The level above heaven. It's more or less the same, except you actually have to go to church now."
My brain retched as hundreds of sleepy Sunday memories passed through it. God's facial expression didn't change; either he couldn't read my mind or he'd evolved beyond the confines of human body language. It was starting to bother me: how dismissive and cold he was. "Are there no other choices? "Other religions?" He shook his head, frowning. "Hell?"
"Why would you want to go to Hell?"
*In hopes Satan is cooler than you*, I thought. "Change of scenery," I said.
"Well, Hell doesn't exist," God said, beckoning me forward through the clouds, "We rebranded that too. It's now called Minor Heaven, and you can go there, but it's objectively inferior to Heaven and the realms above it. Observe." He snapped his fingers and a small model of earth began to revolve in the air. Then half of it burst into flames.
"What do you mean, you rebranded Hell?" Wasn't Hell supposed to act as a deterrent from sinning? What was the point of grouping it under the Heaven umbrella?
"Well, some people had a problem with the existence of Hell under a supposedly all-merciful god." God sighed and rubbed his temples. "Not that I ever promised to be merciful, but you know how humans are: they'll misquote you and hold you to it." He stopped and stamped the floor, summoning a rickety set of stairs that led into the sky. As he led me up them, he continued, "So, to get them off my back, I acquired Hell from Lucifer, renamed it, and everything's now fine and dandy. It's not like humans can tell they're in Hell, anyway." He chuckled. "You and your inability to comprehend greater dimensions."
"That doesn't sound very kosher, if I'm being honest." I said. God ignored me and continued climbing; I thought to turn and run the other direction, but the stairs behind me had vanished. I sighed and trudged onward; the steps seemed to go on for miles, and the fatigue and all the whiteness began to disorient me. After a while, I could no longer tell what direction I was heading; all I could do was follow the stairs.
I finally set foot on the landing, where a glowing red doorway stood, framing the rippling image of an entire realm behind it. "Welcome to the next realm of Heaven," God said, nudging me through. He left briskly, slamming the door shut behind him, perhaps still irritated with all of my questions.
My past life's memories began to die as I stepped through the doorway. Before they had completely faded, I noticed, at least, that my surroundings seemed distinctly earthly: the trees, the grass, the sun; nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save for one alarming difference. Panic surged through me, but the moment passed, and I could no longer remember why everything was on fire. | |
[deleted] | [WP] You are 30 years old, and see you have a new friend request on Facebook. You look and it is a guy you haven't seen since high school - but you vaguely remember hearing about his suicide and reading his obituary when you were 17. | I hadn't thought about Jack Robies for nearly 13 years now. It wasn't like I had any bad blood with the guy but we just never really got to know each other before the incident. The school told us that his death had been ruled a suicide be the local police. People mourned and cried for that last week before we went on summer vacation.
But then i logged onto Facebook today.
When I first read the name, it took me a moment to realize I had read it before. Simply putting it down to a similar name I added them and began to scroll through their wall. Sure enough, that last time this account was active was the day after his death. His parents posted on it stating what had happened. They too called it a suicide. I thought maybe this was a prank or simply a friend request that never processed.
It was only once I realized I had received from him that this became all too real.
"Hello are you here? You need to answer please man for your own sake." The message read out
I quickly typed back, laughing nervously to myself how dedicated someone was to this prank.
"Haha very funny man. Who is this? His brother or cousin?
I waited a minute for a response. Until suddenly a picture appeared of the same Jack Robies I had seen walking the halls all those years ago. His face was covered in large cuts and bruises, and his hair tangled and knotted, looking like he had never seen a haircut in his life.
"I'm serious Tom you need to listen to me. Look out your window right now, tell me if you see a white van with a black hexagon on it." The next message from him read out.
I briskly walked over to the window and peered out. Sure enough, sitting across the road from my apartment was a van similar to what he had explained. Again I sat down at my computer and began to type.
"Jack you're scaring me. I see it but what do you want me to do?"
"It's nearly too late but you still have time. YOU NEED TO RUN."
"Jack what happened to you? You're supposed to be dead?"
"There's no time for that meet me at 40.7829° N, 73.9654° W and soon. There isn't much time. You need to move fast."
And move fast I did. I tossed everything of importance into by backpack that I could. It felt strange to put so much trust into someone I barely knew, let alone someone who was meant to be dead. I kept looking at the picture he sent me of himself. It was that picture that spurred me on. The look of fear in his eyes tore through me like a dagger. Within five minutes I had packed as much as I could and bolted out the door.
Sneaking out the back of the complex into the nearby alley seemed like that smartest move. They were watching the front which was obvious enough to see. As I moved quickly through the lobby area I saw two men walk in. Both of them wore jet white suits with the same black hexagonal logo pressed into the silk. They didn't see me as I slipped into the laundry room and out through the back door.
I carefully moved myself into the outdoor crowd walking outside the alley to blend in.
I rechecked the co-ordinates he sent to my phone, and wondered to myself. What really happened to Jack 13 years ago? What did the hexagon people have to do with it? What made me so special that it might happen to me as well? Once I deemed myself far enough from the men I called a taxi and swiftly jumped in. When they asked my destination I quickly googled the co-ordinates. Central Park flashed up onto my screen.
"Sir I'm going to need you to take me to the airport. I have a plane to catch"
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Thank you for reading! I'd really love some criticism or feedback. It would mean a lot to me. Also let me know if you want me to continue on with the story!
| It was late at night when I saw the notification. 'Late' and 'night' were just relative terms really, seeing as I didn't know the actual time. I just assumed so because it was dark, but is it really late if this is the time I'm normally awake?
I recognized the name, but my memory of the person was hazy at best.
"Who was this guy?" I thought to myself. It was clear that he wasn't anyone particularly important to me; just another nobody who fell through the cracks and never amounted to anything. Was it even worth my time to play detective and figure out who this guy was? Maybe the best course of action would be to just ignore it. As I sat there staring at the little '1' on my notification bar, I decided that I might as well kill some time and check it out. After all, I really was never up to much and had nothing better to do, so I clicked on his name.
*Caleb Smith*, a pretty generic name if one ever existed. It almost sounded like the name of a character from a low-effort short story written on the internet. Yet, for whatever reason, this name resonated with a memory in the back of my mind. A memory that was either too distant or too irrelevant for me to remember clearly. Which one, I did not know. Did it matter really? Without any real idea of what I was searching for, I began to look through his photos.
Every picture, as ordinary as they seemed, each felt unique and as if they held some greater significance other than just a time sink.
It was pretty clear as I examined Caleb's albums that he didn't have many friends. He never did much, and when he did, it wasn't anything near exciting. Overall he seemed average, and my initial judgment of him being a nobody was being confirmed by my investigative research. "Why am I still looking?" I asked myself, and strangely, sat in silence awaiting an answer.
I reached the end of his albums, having found nothing concrete enough to remind me of this person's identity. At this point, I was both determined, and emotionally invested into discovering the mysteries behind this person.
My next step was to turn to Google, to try and see if I could find anything. When I searched up his name, the fourth result held a news article from my hometown. I followed the link unsure if I'd struck pyrite or gold. The article was short and modest, nothing that would strike me as being of any importance, had it not been for the name at the head. Then it dawned on me, as I perused through the article.
Suicide.
It all came surging back almost instantly. A wave of memories, emotion, and understanding hit me like a truck. I simply stared wide eyed at my computer screen.
How could I forget? Although I never cared for the person, they were still important in my life at the time. I knew everything he went through, all his thoughts, everything he suffered. I knew exactly why he had killed himself. Perhaps I could have stopped it, perhaps I could have intervened and saved his life. But I didn't. I left him in his suffering to rot. He who had never felt loved. He had never accomplished anything. He who was a nobody that slipped through the cracks. He, who despite how much I loathed him, was really the only friend I had ever known. I understood why he took his own life, and knew deep down that there was no other way. I braced myself for the tears, but they never came. A soft chuckle escaped my lips. "Even now, I stand by my decision."
I heard a deep and powerful voice behind me, "So. Are you ready then Caleb?"
I turned around, and smiled. "I've always been."
A large dark figure loomed before me. It wasn't so much a black silhouette as it was a pure absence of light, but it still had a humanoid shape. It extended it hand towards me, as if it wanted to lead me somewhere.
Just as I was about the grab the being's hand, I hesitated. "Should I be scared?"
For what seemed like an eternity, it was silent. Then again, the powerful voice spoke. "I have guided countless others in the exact same position as yourself. Of all of them, I have never met one that regretted anything. Where we are going next, it will be better than where you were before."
I thought pensively on the words that it spoke to me, and then responded, "Well, where are we going then?"
This time, there was no silence. He answered my question with what seemed to be a rehearsed answer. I was certainly not being original in my questions.
"Home," was all he said.
"I've never really had a place to call home. Can such a place exist for me? What will I even know what to expect?"
The presence gave off a hostile aura. I was probably annoying it at this point. Yet its response was not one of irritation, but of care, and tenderness.
"Would you rather go back?"
I paused, unsure if the question presented to me was rhetorical or not. "Can I?"
"Of course. You can have a second chance. If you decide to, you will awaken to the place of your death, but things will play out as if you had never taken your life with your own hands. You can begin anew."
I thought for quite a long time. Did I want to go back? Was there anything worth waiting for me? After what was minutes, or perhaps years, I responded. "And if I go with you?"
Again, the being responded with a tender answer in a powerful voice, "You will never have to be alone. You can find sanctuary amongst the other ones who are just like you."
"Is there no heaven?"
"There is."
"Can I go there?"
"I did give you that option."
I lowered my head, realizing the significance of what the being said. I realized what I had thrown away.
I turned around, back to my computer, and I noticed some things I hadn't the first time. I saw a young man, with his whole life ahead of him. A young man with the world in front of him. A young man with a newfound hope. I dragged the cursor to the friend request. I let out a soft thank you to the being behind me. I hesitated for a moment, and then accepted the request.
I woke up on the floor of my garage, a noose around my neck. I removed it, and fell to my knees in tears. After a few minutes, I stood up, and walked towards the door. For the first time in years, I smiled. I turned the door knob, and walked outside. |
[WP] You swerve to avoid a squirrel. Unknown to you, the squirrel pledges a life debt to you. In your darkest hour, the squirrel arrives. | The ringing in my ears only lasted for a few seconds, which was surprising, considering how close I was to the raid.
I was eating my breakfast in the canteen of the local airport, eager to catch my flight to New York so that I could commence an important business meeting. As the seconds flicked buy I eagerly checked my watch as I crammed down today's Full English Breakfast. What's weird is that nothing seemed out of the ordinary that day, well, this was my first time travelling by air on "business" but an airport is an airport - everyone looks either very stressed or very relaxed depending on the circumstances of their flight. I was the former. Television screens dotted around the waiting room showed live footage of the airport that I was sitting in; one of America's newest and popular politicians was also making a flight today from an adjacent terminal to mine. Watching the TV crew opposite the canteen interviewing said politician, and then casting my eyes to the TV mounted on the wall opposite me kept me amused for most of the morning as I played a game with myself to catch the delay on the live news coverage. Was it 5 seconds, or 7? I couldn't remember.
Then "it" happened".
A flash of white light cracked to the right of my peripheral vision, exactly where the TV crew was standing. Chairs and hand luggage littered the air as I was thrown across the canteen floor, my breakfast joining the chairs in it's flight path to any wall or ceiling it would collide with first. Myself and about 2 dozen other people were dazed as we blurrily took in what we were watching. Armed men in black balaclavas - shooting the place up. This might sound thrilling, exciting and scary to you. But I kid you not, it is nothing to the carnage that unfolded next.
"You, get up now!"
Barked one of the men, in a thick Eastern European accent as he thrust the barrel of his assault rifle to my forehead. I won't lie, I started to cry and blubber immediately whilst I begged for my life. Pulling me by my forearm he dragged me to where the politician stood in the center of the airport waiting room. Other men circled the remaining living bodies into a group. To my horror, I noticed the TV's were still broadcasting the live footage of what was unfolding, and embarrassingly, a close-up of my snot-ridden and bruised face.
*Ping. Plick. Zeeeeeeee-----thwack. Dummmmmm.*
Among the terrorists shouting orders at people crawling on the floor, the strange noises that I could faintly hear grew in volume and frequency.
To the left. Then the right. Then above me. Then behind us. Everyone was now following the noises around the airport terminal with their gaze, including the armed men. Collectively I think everyone assumed that these were the noises of special forces preparing to counter-attack. I don't think any of us could've guessed that those noises were being made by a super-sonic squirrel.
Gun shots. An armed man bent over himself, winded from the impact of... something. The pain caused him to clench the rifle gripped in his hand and fire off rounds.
Screams, another, spinning around shooting at the roof rafters.
"What is it, what is it!!!" screamed the man that had thrust his rifle into my forehead seconds earlier. Then, I blinked and his rifle was gone, knocked from his hands.A brown blur. An acorn appeared in mid-air and dropped in its wale.
We all stood gobsmacked as this, thing, picked them off one by one. It would silently dart from nowhere, and once it's work was done it left behind nothing but a little sonic "pop" from its speed as it vanished. Soon this mini hero began taunting them. Aiming for the crotch, the neck, the legs. Anything to make them keel over and cry for mercy.... all broadcast on Live Television. This spectacle lasted for mere minutes as the armed men went from terrifying to pathetic right infront of us, with no visible reason as to why or who.
But I knew, I saw the paw-prints on the polished white airport floor next to me. They looked like a small animals. A weevil? A badger? No. A squirrel. The squirrel I missed on the way to the airport, had just saved my life.
| I couldn't believe my stupidity. I've never been the outdoorsy type. And to take this long of a hike by myself?
I lost everything days ago when my dumb ass hiked away from camp without my compass or flashlight. I have no food. My cell phone is dead. I have no idea where I am.
I am done for. I find it almost comical. I thought I should try something new, break out of my shell. Quit being such a couch potato. But no. Now I'm going to die covered in mosquito bites and poison ivy in the middle of the woods where NOBODY KNOWS I AM!!!
OW! What the actual fuck. An acorn? What?
Hey. What the hell? Is that squirrel trying to talk to me? I've surely lost my mind?
It's trying to get me to follow it.... what the hell? Was Lassie reincarnated as a squirrel?
I've been following this squirrel for an hour. I don't know what or why and I'm certain I've lost my actual mind.
Wait. What? Is that the highway!?! Oh my gods. Mr Squirrel, you saved my life!! | |
[WP] Your guardian angel has decided to take the next step in protecting you, and has started telling you when people lie to you. However, your angel is not omniscient, and is particularly paranoid. | "You know that shifty eyed guy behind the counter was full of shit when he told you they were out of everything bagels. Bagel Hut wouldn't just run out of one of the essential bagel flavors. Never trust a blond guy with a soul patch!" Azrael was hovering just over my shoulder, inspecting my breakfast sandwich for any hint of a glint of metal. Recently he had become obsessed with the prospect of someone slipping a razor blade into my food. "Look Azzie, I really don't think --" "What you're just going to let this guy get away with robbing you of bagel bliss?! Bullshit! You should at least slash his tires on your way back to the car. I'm just telling you for your own good. I am a guardian angel after all."
I took a moment to finish chewing mouthful of pumpernickel while I thought about how absurd that statement was. "Really, you're my guardian huh? So what do you think is going to happen if I go out and slash this guy's tires in broad daylight? He's twice my size. It seems more like you're trying to put me in the hospital.
Azzie floated around in front of me apparently so I could get a good look at the incensed expression on his face. Although it was probably so he could stare down the pregnant lady in the booth behind me. "You think I'm paranoid don't you? Just because I'm stuck down here on guard duty for god's current pet project and not off designing a nebula like my cousin Galadriel doesn't mean that I don't take pride in my work. When I tell you someone is lying to you it's because I'm looking out for your best interests. Remember when I told you Marisol was sleeping around and you ignored me? Lo' and behold you ended up walking in on her sucking off her English professor on the day you were going to propose! I know what I'm talking about here. Fuck that bagel stealing asshole's shit up before his shift ends and he goes home!"
He was getting really worked up at this point. Normally I would try to change the subject or remind him of some other time when he actually managed to do his job. Not today, I was just done. Sure having a friend who was a self professed lie detector had been great at first, but things had clearly taken a turn for the worse the last few weeks. It was time to stand up for myself. I slammed my paper coffee cup down on the table (which admittedly seemed a lot more threatening in my head) and let him have it."That's it I demand to talk to your supervisor! You've clearly lost it. Not only are you downright paranoid you are a horrible guardian! Sure you were right about Marisol, but you haven't caught anyone in a real lie in weeks. Just admit that you're out of your depth here and put in for a transfer. I can't handle you constantly whispering in my ear about how every single person is lying and out to get me!"
Just then, before Azzie could spit out another half baked conspiracy theory a shadow fell across our table. I looked up to see a familiar and face, one that wasn't particularly happy to see me. Mall security officer Will Darrow looked down at me with a scowl on his face. "Sir, we've been through this several times now. I'm going to have to ask you to vacate the premises. You're disturbing the other customers."
This was not shaping up to be a good day. "Officer, I'm just sitting here talking to my friend." I said, motioning towards the still fuming angel floating in front of me. Officer Darrow grimaced and let out a sigh. "Look I'm trying to take it easy on you, because you're clearly not well. You can't sit here screaming about assaulting food court employees for 20 minutes without attracting attention. Please just leave before I have to get the real cops involved." Sometimes I forget that no one else can see my sad excuse for a guardian angel.
"Fine, fine okay." I grunted, backing away towards the door to the parking lot with my hands up. "I don't want any trouble." "Good then we don't have a problem." Officer Darrow replied. "Don't come back here, you're officially banned from the Mesa Verde Galleria. I'll be watching for you on the security cameras." As I turned around and walked towards the door, really about to just lay into Azzie for getting me banned from the only place with a decent Bagel Hut near my house I hear the guy with a soul patch talking to my least favorite mall cop.
"Hey Will thanks for taking care of that guy again. They don't pay you enough to deal with crazies like that. Here have our last everything bagel, on the house. I was saving it for myself, but you deserve it after what you just had to put up with." I hope that shifty eyed bastard made enough in tips to take the bus home because I definitely slashed his tires.
| They parted ways under a flickering neon sign that said *CPEN*. He watched her all the way to the subway station. Then she slipped out of sight and was gone.
"You can't put your faith in people like that," said Winifred, hovering just off the pavement. David shrugged.
"I didn't, did I?"
Winifred nodded. "And yet, you seem regretful."
"I liked her, is all," said David, scuttling backwards until his shoulders rested up against the bar's brick wall. "I just liked her."
"She lied about Bowie," said Winifred, swooping to hover just off David's shoulder. "Even you could tell that was a lie. She lied about her last boyfriend, too. It wasn't months ago, David. It was *days*. And he wasn't half the jerk she made him out to be."
"Okay. Okay."
They sat a while in silence. David picked at the edges of his sneakers.
"It's just starting to feel..." said David, slowly, thoughtfully. "It's starting to feel like *everyone's* lying. All the time. Is that just...is that how people *are*? We just can't talk to each other without being full of shit?"
"It's fear, I think," said Winifred, holding a pale, luminescent finger up to her chin. "No trust. We do it to ourselves, I suppose. Made a world that values perfection and fantasy. Who can trust themselves to be good enough as they really are?"
"Well, should I be holding that against people, then?" asked David. "Mandy...yeah, half of what she said was bullshit, but why'd she bother? Why'd she lie?"
"She didn't trust that she was good enough," said Winifred blandly.
"Good enough for what, though? For me? I mean, doesn't that count for something?"
"Perhaps, but that won't come to anything good, will it? Lies. Lying. Make believe. Eventually you have to start living in the picture you've painted. And if it's not a picture you like..."
David rolled his neck. It cracked, loud and satisfying. "So it's hopeless, then?"
"No," said Winifred. "You just have to meet someone who doesn't lie. If they don't lie, it means they trust in themselves. And if they trust in themselves, they'll trust in you. That's what *I* want, anyway. You to meet someone who doesn't lie."
"Okay. Okay."
Winifred's crystal eyes swept down towards David. "Is it too much? My help? Would you prefer I left you alone?"
"I know you mean well," said David hollowly. "I just don't know where this all goes."
"But you at least understand why I do it?"
David looked up at Winifred and smiled. "Yeah. Of course. And I appreciate it. I'm sorry. I just get...it runs you down after a while. That's all."
Winifred nodded. "David?"
"Yeah."
"I still love you."
David laughed. "I know, Winnie. I still love you, too. That's why I keep telling you, it's okay if you need to leave. It's okay if you want to move on...to whatever that is."
"No," said Winifred. "I know you think this is painful for me, but it isn't. It really isn't. I want to see you through this."
"*Through it*?" said David, struggling up to his feet. "Through what? My life? Are you sticking around for the whole thing?"
"Just until you find the right person," said Winifred. "Someone who doesn't lie. Someone who believes in themselves enough to believe in you."
David blinked, considering Winifred's pale, translucent face. "Is that what happened to you? Did you not believe in yourself enough? Did you lie?"
Winifred said nothing. The two stared at one another for a long, long moment. "I never lied about how I felt," said Winifred. "Not about you."
"But *you*, Winnie," said David. "Is that why you...?"
She raised a hand. "We'll find the right person for you. It wasn't me. But we'll find them. Then I'll go."
"Okay," said David. "It's late. Time to go home."
So they walked, man and angel, slowly, unrushed, through purple city streets, saying nothing, accompanied only by the sound of a single pair of feet tapping along the pavement. | |
[WP] You have been the Grim Reaper for the last 2000 years, and have always viewed and experienced the entire life of the person you're to take the life of. You've never shown mercy and have always collected the life when time ends. Until you experience the life of a sicky old man. | He just wanted to sit outside one last time.
When I touched him, he spoke to me, as if he knew I was coming. Not once in my many decades of existence has anyone ever spoken to me, but his voice was clear, and frail.
"Can I sit outside, with the birds, one last time?" He asked me like he was a child asking for permission.
I couldn't bear to tell him that technically, I wasn't allowed to let a soul live past its expiration date, but the way he spoke to me... it was without fear. It made me wonder how many nights he had laid in that bed, closed his eyes, and reached out to me, trying to let me know that he was at peace with his fate. How long had he awaited death?
I knew the answer, I could see his whole life displayed right before my very eyes, and still the question pulled on me in ways I couldn't describe. His childhood was filled with happy memories, but overflowing with bad ones. Loud arguments muffled by doors and pillows flooded my ears, and strategically placed bruises lined his arms and legs. Some of his teeth were missing, and the kids at school called him Checkerboard.
Then the scenes changed. He was an adult now, strolling down the street of a big city, the scent of morning coffee and fresh gasoline in the air. A woman with her head down rushed by, slamming into his side, sending his coffee splashing onto the parked car next to him, and the only good suit he owned. She apologized profusely, handed him a twenty-dollar bill, and stormed off in the other direction. Another scene change. The man and the coffee-spiller had somehow ended up together, their love as bright as it was during their first kiss. But then the arguments began, and the familiar feeling of dread returned.
It was little things at first, but it only grew from there. Soon they were locked in a shouting competition, and in tears, she dashed from the apartment, and his life, leaving him wondering just where he went wrong. Weren't arguments healthy? He thought, prayed that she would come back. She didn't. And he knew she would never when he saw her two years later at that same coffee shop, a diamond ring on her finger and a million-dollar man wrapped around her waist.
She had moved on, why couldn't he? Dropped into a world of depression, confusion, and alcoholism, he wandered aimlessly, looking for a light that was only ever advertised, never sold. Deeper and deeper he sank into his own mind until one day, he found himself under a light. The light of a doctor's flashlight. It was bright, and annoying, and a man was asking him if he was okay. He didn't know. He couldn't remember.
Decades passed in between empty cans and hospital rooms, until one word stuck in his mind: Dementia. It was like a big fat F, like the ones he used to get on his report cards from school. He hid the word just as he did with the grades, and continued on with his life. He was given medications, but they didn't help with the pit he was in, and eventually he was admitted to some kind of psychiatric ward. He wasn't crazy. He was depressed, though he couldn't remember why.
There, he spent many years, where he made some of the best memories of his life. Like the one where he went outside to feed the birds just as the sun was waking up, and one of them hopped into his hand to eat the seeds. Or the one where he got to visit with some animals from the local shelter, while other patients visited their family. It would've made him sad to think he had no family to visit with, if not for the memory of his childhood nickname. The animals were kind, and gentle, they were better than his parents, and the coffee-spiller. They understood him, and listened to him.
I had to pull away from his relaxed form. His closed eyes and rickety breathing was too much for me, where normally, I'd have no qualms about taking his life. His eyes opened slowly, and searching through the darkness of the room, they found mine.
"Please," he whispered, "just one more sunrise."
Thinking of the birds he had held, I nodded. "One more sunrise."
With a gentle exhale of breath, he smiled softly, and in what little light there was, I could see he was missing a few teeth.
_____________________________________________________
So this was longer than I intended, but it was fun to write! | I am death.
Sounds like a cliché to open like that, huh? Well, frankly I don't care. I'm literally death. I take the lives of people whose time has come, and I do it swiftly, fast with no remorse. I always see the long and prosperous lives of the unworthy, and the short and disease filled ones of the poor. I experience every single moment of their life beforehand, but it never changes my view, the job has got to be done.
The world is quite unfair, but my job is a moral greyzone because it's *necessary*. Without death there's no real life; what would you strive to be without a deadline? What would you want to do without an expiration date? How much time would you spend and cherish with your loved ones if there was no end?
That's where I come in as said, I make life worth living.
Steve Jobs, Leonardo Da Vinci, Muhammad Ali, all of them has been taken away by my hand. The thing that separates men and women like that is their understanding and acceptance of the natural order; their will and strength to fight, but their knowledge of when to stop. They accept the forthcoming and embraces the void.
Okay, forget everything I just told you know, every single thing. There was one time where I actually felt remorse, where I questioned myself and the natural order of things.
Here's a page I wrote from my memoir about that night:
The whole night felt different... There was something in the air, something undescribable. It was an ordinary night, but with a special fling to it.
Darkness filled every corner, and lit up the sidewalk did several lampposts. I stepped upon the bricks and mortar of the low stairs towards the wooden door. It had fine insignias and metal brackets covering it.
I flew right through it.
A well lit house welcomed me, the Reaper, and I gladly accepted it. I navigated myself through the house until I found my client; or my victim as most would call it.
"Finally," the silhouette spoke, "I've been waiting for you."
"I assume you know who I am," I responded.
"Oh, I'm sorry, hello mister Reaper," the old man let out.
"And hello to you, fine gentleman."
"You took your time, I awaited your arrival sixty years ago, I craved your arrival sixty years ago," the man said, coughing between words.
I wondered. Why did the man tell me this? And more importantly, why did I get intrigued?
"Well, your time has come, and-" I got interrupted.
"Yeah, yeah, but everyone knows you have to sit and watch my entire life before you take me, it's common knowledge."
Is deaths deepest, darkest secret common knowledge nowadays? Well, time flies.
"That's correct," I answered after a few moments.
I looked into his eyes, his oceanic blue eyes. I saw anger, despair, sorrow and pain. I didn't see a single flake of happiness; it was like the man was born in darkness, raised by the devil and adopted by a murderer. I saw his entire life, from the moment where he was born, to the one exactly now.
I saw his first day in school and I saw the first time he got bullied and cried himself to sleep.
I saw his first kiss and I saw the slaps from his mother.
I saw his first love and his cheating girlfriend and the broken heart that came with it.
His parents divorce, his cutting and low self-esteem.
The death of his both siblings and the murder of his dad.
The suicide of his mother and the following three attempts on himself.
The alcohol, the drugs and the long nights.
But in the abyss I was watching into, I saw a glimt of hope.
I saw a beatiful girl; her name was Barina. They met in a church, and he fell for her instantly. They moved in together, got a child and lived like a perfect couple. They made each other whole, they made each other complete.
It was a fairytale, and the man knew it.
But I also saw the blade of a knife; dripping blood and gunshot wounds. I saw his dead wife and child, and I saw the face of the murderer.
A hooded figure escaped the scene before the man came home from work. I witnessed the moment where he saw me capturing and taking his wife and child with me to the Realm, and I saw the same broken heart I've seen so many times before.
Me, Death, shook with pain and sorrow for the man; I'd never been so reluctant to bring someone with me as I was now.
I continued staring into his soul and I saw nothing but failed suicide attempts and tears; I saw nothing but misery.
I looked at a broken man, one so fundamentally broken that you wouldn't actually believe his story. Although he'd been destroyed, he was one of the most generous and warm-hearted men on this planet. He had given his inherited wealth to the ones who needed it more than him, he had always told the truth and always been good to everyone. He was truly larger than life itself.
"Go on, I'm waiting," the man broke the silence corrupting the dark room.
"I admire you," was the only thing I managed to squeeze out.
"You say that to everyone, don't you?"
"No. No, I don't, you're special my friend. You're good."
A few moments of silence ensued.
"I just want to die, I just want to be ridden of this plague called life," he said.
I saw a tear rolling down his wrinkled cheek.
"This 'plague' of yours, has saved countless souls from your faith; you have spread happiness, joy and liberating freedom to everyone you've crossed paths with."
"Yeah, but it's all pointle-" This time I interrupted him.
"You know, I've actually taken a few of those people. I remember a young lady with the name of Barina."
"You know her... I don't want to get reminded," he said.
"She told me about you, she told me about all the good things you did. She told me how you lightened her every moment and loved her every single step," I responded.
I saw the man trying to open his mouth but I continued talking.
"I also remember a trubbled young fella. He died of gunshots to the chest, more specifically, police gunshots," I said.
After a few thougtful moments he said: "No, it can't be..."
"Yes it can, the man who killed your family."
"I, I..." He got stuck on the first word," I... Forgive him," he cried, tears flying around the room, drenching his leather coat.
"That's the only thing he wanted," I said, "he only wanted your forgiving. He wa raised by an abusive father and mother, and took to crime early. He had no money and it was only supposed to be a robbery; he didn't count on the fact that your significant other and child was home."
The man cried, he cried long a mournful.
After an extended amount of time, the old and sick man opened his lips for the last time. He smiled and a tear of relief and joy bubbled down his torn face.
"Jag är redo nu," was his last words. | |
[WP] "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" "I'm Doc Brown and this is Marty McFly" "Alright, well I'm Rick Sanchez and this is my grandson Morty..." | [edited some spelling errors]
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?", the shaggy, blue haired man demanded, not unreasonably, given the 1983 DeLorean DMC-12 that was now partially fused into his garage wall.
Marty looked nervously back at the sparking wreck behind him and the sharp, pronged instrument that had collided with the windshield, inches away from where he had been sitting. At least he had been able to carefully, slowly, ease his way out of the passenger seat. His partner's jumpsuit was still smouldering after catching fire during their unexpectedly arrival.
Marty's partner-in-time, Doc Brown, whipped his head back and forth between Marty and the new arrivals, as if trying to ascertain something.
"Well, I'm Doc Brown and this is Marty McFly."
The shaggy man's eyes narrowed, "Alright, well I'm Rick Sanchez and this is my grandson Morty..."
Rick turned ninety degrees and began to address the other side of the garage, "Oh wow, isn't this crazy aha? Wh-what an amazing crossover, am I right guys? Think of all the wacky hijinks we can cavoozle our way into now-"
As the old man rambled, Marty and Doc Brown looked utterly befuddled, turning to the child, Morty, in search of answers.
"Yeah, he does this sometimes. Give it a minute.", Morty explained with a sigh, rolling his eyes.
Suddenly, a handheld, shoebox-sized device Doc Brown had been holding lit up - a red bauble on its top flashing an irregular pattern. Doc Brown gasped.
"Great Scott! But that means!"
The doctor ran outside, holding the device high above his head, with the unfortunate result of leaving his charred pants to sag down to his ankles. He gasped even louder than before.
"Great Scott!"
Doc ran back inside and pointed the device straight at Rick, who seemed to be finishing up with his excursion into the fourth wall. The red bauble lit up so strongly it began to make an audible whine, before promptly shattering. He turned to Marty.
"Great Scott, Marty! Do you know what this means?"
"No Doc, I don't know what this means, I never know what this means! Doc, when are we this time?"
"Not when, Marty, where! Or more specifically, where in time AND space! A different quantum reality, diverging from, and obviously somewhat inspired by our own. Another dimensional counterpart!"
Marty raised his hands in frustration, "You're saying, we're not in the past?"
"No! In fact, judging by my chronometer, we're slightly in the future, 2016! But, in a completely different universe!"
Marty sunk into one of the folding chairs by the miniature laboratory that occupied the back half of the garage, now in a considerable state of disarray.
"This is heavy."
---------------------------------
While the dimensional travellers were discussing their situation, Morty had made his way over to Rick with his own questions, tugging at his lab coat.
"R-rick? What's with these guys? That guy looks kind of like me, except older - and the old guy is l-like identical to you, Rick! D-Did you clone me again?"
Rick waved Morty off and reached into his coat's pocket for a flask of unidentifiable, but strong-smelling booze.
"Geez Morty, y-you act like you've never been part of a crossover fanfiction before. Look, it's very s-SUUURP-simple. Some asshole probably thought it was a good idea for characters from one franchise to meet characters from another - when this has never, ever, worked before. I-I mean did you READ that Star Trek/X-Men novel, Morty?"
"Fanfiction, w-what do you mean Rick?"
"I mean none of this is really happening - th-these two guys are like our fathers, we're directly based off of them in a parodic fashion. W-we shouldn't be able to meet them, no matter how much someone tries to justify it with some made-up bullshit about quantum realities and dimensions."
"Our fathers? Oh geez, Rick, you mean none of this is real? I'm not real?"
"Morty, the very fact we're able to meet these guys means that this can't be canonical. And non-canonical works might as well-URRRRp not exist. You know what I'm saying dawg?"
Rick stroked his chin and looked around walls of the garage, attempting to see past them.
"Yup, I'd say we're in some shitlord's average-at-best fanfiction. H-he's probably just run out of ideas so he's allowing us to acknowledge our situation because we're more meta than the other guys."
Rick waved his fist.
"Y-you hear me? I mean, we haven't even interacted with the other guys and been derailed into this meta discussion because you're out of ideas. You didn't even have a plan for what kind of hijinks w-we'd get into with the Back to the Future gang! Hack!"
Morty was quietly freaking out in the corner, "Rick, i-if none of this is real, and it's just some story, what happens to us? Oh man, what happens when the story ends?"
"Oh, don't worry Morty. Clinical paranoia has helped me devise just the invention for this," Rick returned to the ruins of his laboratory searching for something - a small round orb, humming with a soft sound.
"T-this will force the hack writer to submit this story, as crap as it is right now - the story being as crap as it is, he'll have to keep coming back to edit it and adjust it. W-we'll survive, M-Moooorty don't you worry."
"So how do we turn it o | Rick leans over to Doc Brown, and whispers: "He evens out my brainwaves." Doc Brown nods agreeingly.
"Aww geez Rick, I think I know these guys."
Marty meanwhile walks around in a daze of confusement and amazement ("Whoa") of his sudden new surroundings. Doc Brown frantically looking at all the unknown technology around him.
Morty continues: "You remember that one time, we were watching tv. That movie about timetravel from that channel we like? You know?"
Doc Brown immediately jumps up, "What? Timetravel?" But gets cut off.
"Way to be *burp* specific Morty. But yeah, why'd ya think they're here? Huh? They just materialize out of nothing?"
Morty is looking blankly at Rick. Marty's attention also now diverting to the speaking voice.
"... No *half burp/half word* MOOOorty. They materialize out of stuff like carbon, water, and some cans of Uncle Bens I had lying around."
Marty looks shocked, Doc Brown nods agreeingly.
"Why didn't you just bring them with the portalgun?" Morty asks Rick.
"I don't know, MOR-TY. Why do YOU leave your jizzrags in the same drawer you keep your night-braces?"
"WHAT?"
"Because I'm a fucking *burp* SCIENTIST, Morty!"
"That makes NO sense!"
"Wait, did you just say you know us from a movie? So... Wait. Our existence is a lie? And I'm also famous?" Marty exclaims, still confused. But before Rick, or Morty can answer, a bright green flash occurs and a silhouette of a man appears on the floor of the garage. As the smoke clears, we recognize the figure as Biff.
"Well, that came out of nowhere." Rick remarks unimpressed.
Biff stands up and rubs his eyes.
"What the hell have you buttheads done now?!"
Rick turns to Doc and Marty and asks: "Friends of yours?" They both shake their heads.
Rick shoots Biff with lasers.
"AH! LASERS! I HATE... LASERS!"
-----
Rick, Morty, Doc and Marty are walking through the living room towards the television.
"So, now that we've got the pleasantries out of the *burp* way, let me show you what you guys really are," Rick says while grabbing the remote and landing on the comfortable chair. "Let me just find the *burp* channel real quick."
Doc and Marty sit on the couch, Doc takes an especially large amount of space, being seemingly tired.
"Sure, yeah, you know that's fine," Morty softly mutters whilst sitting on the floor. "You'd better sit down comfortable for this I guess"
"I think we recorded it, wait. MISTER POOPY.. *burp* BUTTHOLE!" Rick yells across the house.
Jerry enters the room, as if being beckoned by the sound of potential non-loneliness.
"Whoa, you recorded it without a VCR?" Marty says, sitting upfront on the couch, now looking even more amazed than before.
Rick and Morty look at each other for a moment, smiling. They look back towards the tv, Rick takes a sip of his liqour: "Oh man, this is gonna be great."
"Heyyyy guyyyss... Whatcha doing, watching new friends with your television? -- no wait." Jerry says with his trademark confidence.
"Hi dad."
Taking another sip of his liquor, Rick mutters "Maybe not."
Doc Brown jumps up reinvigorated and starts shaking Jerry's hand firmly: "Hello, Doctor Emmett Brown Ph.D, how very nice to meet you!"
"Ohh, well. How very nice to meet you to sir. Urhm, Doctor." Jerry gains confidence as he thinks he recognizes the warm embrace of a possible fellow friend-seeker/social outcast. He worms himself between Marty and Doc Brown on the couch. He looks next to him and sees Marty. He starts looking suspicious, as an inner monologue starts.
"*Hmm, I've seen this guy before...*" An old photo flashes in Jerry's mind, it's of a young Beth dancing at promnight, with a different guy. Who looks a tiny bit like Marty.
"*It's... Harry, HARRY DIMBLEDER!*"
"Awh, SCHNUCKS! Got it!" Rick yells, "Time to *half burp/half word* FUUUuck with your MINDSSss-ah" Rick takes another sip and clicks the remote.
-----
Marty and Doc Brown sit slack-jawed and motionless on the couch, no more Jerry in between them. We hear 'The Power of Love', the movie is over.
"Why... Why did you show this to us?" Doc Brown mutters.
"Well, you know, I just thought. You ought to know the truth, right Morty?" Rick explains. "Also, that movie is fucking *burp* GRReaat. And, I wanted to see if I could get you guys here, you know."
"Yeah, we're like fans, you know. Your entire channel is pretty sweet. Lots of- pretty sweet.. movies." Morty says, but stops when he notices it doesn't help Doc or Marty get any more cheerfull. They seem downright depressed right now.
We see Jerry's head sticking out of the kitchen, envious eyes fixed on 'Harry'. "Time-travelers eh? I knew it. And he did this thing before? With his OWN mother?? I fucking knew it!" he angrily talks in himself as he pounds his fist in his other hand. He turns to the kitchen as his face turns sad. "*sigh* I guess I had it coming... My dear Beth. OOooh."
Still focused on Jerry, we hear Marty ask in the background "So, a lot of chicks will know me here right?" Annoyed, and fueled, Jerry turns to sneakily peek around the kitchen corner again. "But I will *not* give up without a proper fight." Close-up to angry eyes with a smidge of perseverance. "Harry... Dimbleder."
Back to the feature, Rick and Morty now feel kind of bad and have decided to cheer Doc and Marty up.
"Come on, oldtimer, I'll show you what I've got cooking in my kitchen. If you *burp* know what I mean..." Rick beckons to Doc Brown. Who hesitantly stands up, the curiosity for gizmos larger than his newfound reason for severe depression.
"Hey man, Morty. Think you can show me around the neighborhood? You know, for fun" Marty asks after Rick and Doc Brown left the room.
Morty sighs and rolls his eyes "Geez, I guess. But people won't recognize you, you know. You're not famous, that's another dimension"
Marty looks down. "Ugh, come on" Morty says while pulling Marty off the couch.
As they walk out of the room, a set of suspicious eyes follows them from the kitchen...
-----
Doc Brown's face is lighting up with joy as we see him shooting different kind of weapons at the carcass of Biff.
"Here, try this one," Rick hands Doc an old double-barreled shotgun. "Wait, lemme do this first" He lights the front of the shotgun, as if it were the igniter for a flamethrower. Rick puts on safety-goggles. "Allright *buuurp* You're good to *burp* go."
Doc Brown aims the device at the beaten up and by now unnaturally coloured corpse, and fires. Out the left barrel comes a green-ish goo that quite immediately starts decomposing Biff's miserable remains. The goo becomes clear as it mixes with the organic tissue and eventually forms a solid block of creamish color.
Doc Brown stands astonished as Rick smilingly gives him a little pad on the shoulder, as if to give him the go-ahead for the last blow. Doc Brown looks at the weapon and sees a red button at the side.
"Ah, now I see!" He proclaims as he pushes the button.
Out the right barrel comes a bright blue flame that lids and melts the top of the milky structure formerly known as Biff. In the midst of the fiery event, we see Jerry accidentally walk in to the garage, but quickly stumbles back. Quick close-up of his face that seemingly just now had an idea: "Hmm."
Doc enthusiastically continues until Rick stops him.
"Hey, uh, sorry to stop your happy-moment and all, but uh, here," Rick hands Doc Brown a drinking-straw of sorts.
"What on earth do I do with this apparatus?"
"You drink with it, dipshit"
Doc Brown sticks his straw in the flaming reservoir on top of the creamy monolith and drinks.
"Hey! Hmm.. That tastes familiar. But I can't quite place it." Doc ponders out loud. "Was it 1998, or maybe 2010? Hmm"
"I call it the *double barreled* burp * B-52 flaming shotgun, I made it for some crazy mineworkers who needed to get rid of some Irish stingbats or sum'th'n. Other dimension.." Rick takes a big slurp of Biff.
"But hold up Rick, I know you're doing all this to cheer me up. But I have to tell you, this is just another thing for me to be depressed about."
"Ugh, I'm not trying anything. This seemed like a good way to get rid of a *burp* corpse and produce a buttload of liquor at the same time." Rick says, turning away from Biff the unlimited liqour supply.
"And for me to lay waste to this low adversary we've had on our many adventures," Doc Brown says somewhat happier.
"Yeah, sure, whatever" Rick replies uninterested.
-----
| |
[WP]You are the director of the agency that, every fifty years, exchanges communication with a civilization fifty light-years from Earth. This time, however, there is no response. | The director straightened his tie, and walked into the control room. This was the day. He hadn't been born when his father was head of the Interstellar Communications Agency, and even if he was he doubted he'd have known it existed.
*Today's the day* he thought, repeating it like a silent mantra.
There had been three contacts since the first message in 1973. Their name couldn't be pronounced in any earthly language, among the agency they called them Watchers. Humanity was not the first civilization they had contacted. They were interested in knowledge. They had exchanged ideas, information, technology. Since the first contact, humanity had developed artificial intelligence, hovercraft, and more technological marvels. We had brought to them music, art, humor. Simpler things, perhaps, but human things.
He walked up to the control panel. The room was somewhat unnerving, so empty. Very few were allowed to attend the contact in person, some techies, a handful of experts in various subjects, and a few government personnel. The director waited.
And waited.
"Computer, report."
*"Signal not found."*
That wasn't possible.
"Computer, update."
*"Signal not found."*
A young tech specialist piped up, his words quivering a bit. "The system is, uh, right.. sir. No communication detected."
"That's not possible. Patch us through, get us contact!" he shouted, the fear barely breaking through into his words.
"It's not... it's not the connection, sir." he responded, his voice quavering. "There is no contact. They haven't sent a message."
The room was still.
*"No, no, no no no..."* This wasn't happening. Nothing had gone wrong last contact, he had read the reports and listened to the logs. Everything should be fine. It should be fine. What had gone wrong? Sure, the messages took 50 years to get to them, but they had never not come. They had to come. Right?
The enormous monitor spanning far wall flared to life. Garbled, twisted speech echoed from the speakers, and the AI quickly began to translate into a smooth, monotone voice.
*"This is what your species calls a prank, yes?"* | The Director sipped his coffee, aware even as it trickled down his throat in a cold stream that it was his sixth cup of the evening. His face felt tight, eyes wide like some kind of deep sea fish that didn't need to blink, and his foot was tapping at the thin grey carpet to a beat so rapid that the sound of it nearly blended in with the hum of the giant computers all around him.
"Nothing?" He asked, trying desperately to keep the caffeine quaver out of his voice- shakiness was not what anyone on the team needed, not now, not ever from a man in his position. Shakiness did not befit a Man of His Position.
"No, sir." Said the young tech seated in front of the computer before him. His voice rang out with the relief that he was there, seated in the warm leather embrace of a chair that absolved him of the necessity of dealing with the shit that would soon be falling from the sky to strike a thousand fans at once.
"Okay." Said the Director, straightening and looking about at all the faces in the room, pasty and overfed, mostly balding and mostly bespectacled. "Okay, please keep monitoring and let me know if there is any update. I need-" And here he forced a chuckle from his throat as though it were an old brown chunk of apple that needed to be dislodged before it choked him, "-to visit the bathroom. Too much coffee." He bared his teeth at all of them and then strode quickly from the room, his pants swishing around his ankles with the speed of his steps.
It wasn't a joke- he was about to shit his pants. Whether from fear or from the six cups of coffee he had ingested that night, he wasn't sure, but what was an absolute certainty was that he needed the john, pronto. He hurried into a stall and slammed the door, making the entire flimsy set of metal walls shake like a giant plucked doorstop, then snapped the lock. Hasty fingers picked at his belt, then whoosh, his pants were on the floor.
Sweet relief.
When the Director was done, he rose, feeling lighter, more purposeful, rid of some deep-rooted parasite that had been festering in his stomach and pumping fear into his brain from its lowly throne. He washed his hands, thoroughly, and then splashed water onto his face. With both wetted hands, he smoothed his hair back from his high forehead, pulling at the skin so that his eyes popped open in the mirror, seeing as much as they could see at once. He released his own forehead, watching the redness left from the pressure of his hands fade from his skin. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.
He looked down at his coffee mug that sat on the smooth white counter of the bathroom sink. The mug was still shiny and perfectly beige both inside and out. The Director remembered his last meeting with his predecessor, and how he had been fascinated and somewhat disgusted by the state of the man's coffee cup. It had appeared, even when empty, to be full almost to the brim with the ghost of a cup of black coffee, stained indelibly so that the beige of the outer cup was turned to a watercolor impression of a muddy pond on the inside. The older man had been a veteran of many late-night meetings, board room tables strewn with charts and plans, messages in all the various languages of the world, abstract mathematical equations and petitions from inconceivably arrogant artists who wanted their drawings and paintings and music and nude self-portraits to be included in the next message. Fifty years between broadcasts meant that almost everyone had the time to think that they should be included in the outgoing voicemail of the Earth.
"It's a pain in the ass, and it sounds corny as hell, but we do have to consider everyone's desires." The older man had said, sipping from the filthy mug and regarding the future Director from beneath two eyebrows as healthy and overgrown as English hedges. "Even if they are... impractical."
The Director (or Paul, as he had been known then) snorted. He picked up a large color photograph of a nude couple that had painted themselves with glow in the dark paint, then braided their hair together and lived in this situation for a month in their New York apartment. The photograph went along with a 760 page document explaining the meaning of the piece, all of which the artists asked, no, *demanded* be sent to the Listeners in the next transmission.
"People like this are a waste of time." He said, brandishing the photograph at the then-Director. "And you only encourage them with your indulgence."
The then-Director had nodded sagely, peering at the glowing, naked, intertwined couple. His decision during the last transmission to include one piece of art, selected by him at more or less random, to the transmissions from a pool of open submissions had led to a flood of detritus from the rejects of the successful art world, people with no way in to outer space other than a fifty cent manila envelope and a healthy dose of optimism.
"I suppose you can say I made my own bed as far as this stuff is concerned." He said. "But I must confess, I find most of it extremely entertaining. And one or two of the submissions are even quite beautiful."
Paul, the Director-to-be, snorted again. He'd had his own ideas on the subject, and plenty other subjects regarding the way that the program should be run. But he had figured that then was not the time to air all of them, especially as many of these ideas were freshly formed and still quite fragile, like seedlings cast into a new environment where the winds were harsher and the sun more intense than they really would have preferred.
And then the old Director had died, the night before the next exchange. Heart failure. Paul, the Now-Director, had found himself thinking of the old man's eyebrows, and how spectacularly they had failed him as a predictor of general health. Fucking eyebrows and coffee cups. And now this.
No response. | |
[WP] You are on the first spaceship headed to start a new civilization on Mars, but you never reach outer space. The spaceship travels underground and stops. | "Are you ready?
Robert grinned excitedly from his seat in front of me, his neck craned back to see the anticipation on my own face. We were in the final stages of the launch prep, and the five of us who had been chosen for this mission were beyond thrilled. For years, humanity had been plagued by the solar winds that brushed our Earth's atmosphere, boiling the oceans and drying the soil to infertility. We could only do so much underground, searching for the deep aquifers that the sun couldn't touch and trying to eke life from dark caverns and artificial light.
But now...now we had a chance. After years of intense social unrest, the government had revealed a plan to send a small group of pioneers to Mars in an attempt to set up a new civilization, further away from the sun's reach. In the time that we'd spend setting up the foundation for a habitable Mars base, scientists and engineers would be working back on Earth to find a way to create a mass transit system to our new home. The public went nuts, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there were smiles of hope on almost everyone's face. It didn't matter if you truly believed the mission would work or not; the hope was all that we needed.
Finally, the countdown began. I relaxed into my seat, ready to be one of the heroes that children would read in their Martian schoolbooks many, many decades from now. I didn't know which was louder: the roar of our ships engines as we fought against gravity or the roar of the crowd through our helmets' live feeds of the nationwide celebrations. It truly was a momentous occasion for all of us.
Shortly after launch, we were following the curve of the Earth's atmosphere in what the boys back at mission control called an attempt to utilize the Earth's gravity as a slingshot to the red planet.
"Sounds like bullshit, but hell, what do I know?" Robert had replied nonchalantly as we went over mission details. He and I had been partners in state-funded biological labs ever since the first of the winds had touched ground, and when the time came to find potential candidates for the mission, he and I were shoe-ins for establishing the large life support systems that we'd need if more than a village's worth of people were going to stay on Mars.
Strangely enough, however, our ship started to slow. Bewilderment struck the entire crew as we began to descend on what was essentially the opposite side of the planet from our launch point. All attempts to contact home base were met with static and frustrated curses. We plummeted steadily downwards, and the same thought must have crossed all our minds. *Is this it? Are we going to fail now, before we even made out of Earth?*
To our utter surprise, as the ship dropped down, a fissure opened in the dense jungle canopy beneath us, and the Earth swallowed us whole. We settled down on what seemed like flat ground, and the ship's power supply suddenly cut out, leaving us in complete darkness. We unlatched ourselves from our seats, unsure of what to do.
Robert activated a private comms channel between the two of us. "What the fuck is going on, man? We never even left the atmosphere. It's like our ship was just...on autopilot to go here."
"I don't know, but maybe--"
At that moment, the door to the ship opened, blinding us momentarily with the bright lights outside. "Step outside, please," commanded an unseen voice, gentle but undeniably firm. Without much other information to go on and cut from contact with our home team, we had no choice but to follow.
We clambered one by one out of the ship, and I examined the cavern we had landed it. It was deep, deep enough to contain our entire ship with at least half a mile of space to spare before coming up to the fissure we had dropped through. Other than its depth and the bright fluorescent lights that lined the walls, there was nothing else of the cavern to note. Nothing else to identify it by. We were completely and utterly stranded here.
The man before us was dressed in a general's uniform, four stars gleaming on his shoulders. I didn't recognize him personally, but the uniform, if it was real, meant he was one of us. "I want to congratulate and thank all of you," he said, "for the wondrous sacrifice that you have made today."
"Sacrifice?" I asked, mimicking the confusion that had fallen over all of us like a thick blanket.
"Yes, son, you heard me right. Sacrifice. On behalf of myself and our government, I would also like to apologize for the misleading nature of your mission."
"Misleading? What the hell are you talking about?" Tinges of fear and anger hinted at the edge of my voice.
"Son, did you really think a group of five people would be enough to kickstart an entire colony on Mars? We knew the public would be ignorant enough to believe it, but for God's sake don't tell me you are as well."
"Then what the hell are we doing here, then?" Robert came to my side. "What was the point of all this?"
The general stared at the five of us with solemn eyes. "Civil unrest was tearing us apart. We had to find something that the public could unite behind. Something that they could fight for so they could stop fighting each other. You saw how they were today. For the first time in years, they finally feel like they can get something done on this godforsaken planet."
"What do you mean, 'feel like they can get something done?' Aren't we all working to get out of here? If there's no real mission, then how the hell are we going to save--"
"You're not." The general's voice cut through my protest like a knife. "There is no 'saving' to be done here, son. We've looked at the data for years now and nothing has changed. We don't have the resources to begin a new life somewhere else. We don't have the resources to fight for our lives here. Our planet is well and truly screwed."
The shock of his words was like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of me while disbelief choked my throat. I could only assume the rest of the crew felt the same, judging from their lack of response.
Finally, Robert whispered, "So what happens now, then?"
For the first time in our encounter, the general's face softened. His eyes were filled with immeasurable sorrow as he examined the five of us, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a dull black pistol.
"I'm sorry. The people cannot know what occurred here today. They cannot know that they are doomed, or else their last days will be filled with terror instead of hope. The sacrifice that you have made today will be remembered for as long as there are people here to remember it. If it's any consolation, at least your deaths will be quick and painless. I cannot say the same for those doomed to die with the wind."
Before any of us could react, he raised the gun.
Six shots rang throughout the cavern. | Everything just felt off. The liftoff had barely even left me breathless; let alone on the verge of passing out. And it most definitely felt like we were going down, not up. Maybe this was all a dream, maybe I’d wake up in space in a few minutes after having blacked out. But it wasn’t. There’s this sort of reality that sinks in when you’re awake. A certain tangibility to the world around you. At least I did, and this was most certainly not a dream. The com system came on,
“Astronaut 2052, 2053, and 2054, please unbuckle your seats. We have arrived”
Yep, definitely off. No landing, no spectacular view. It must’ve been a joke. I unbuckled my seat and shot straight to the floor. Still gravity. I was the first to get to the door. I expected to see a bunch of laughing co-workers, but what I saw forever imprinted itself in my mind. There was a long, rippling scar across the face of a rock. All of the rock around this piece had been chipped away. Only the tear and the little bits of surrounding surface remained. It looked like a crack in the rock, but no light was being bounced off. Just utter blackness. It had to be a gate of some kind. The emptiness of the thing just begged you to jump in. As I got more adjusted to the low light, I saw that the fissure bounced and jiggled. If you stared at the edge of the rip, you could see some rock come and go, like the rippling of a tide. It took me a while to realize all of the research equipment surrounding us. There were computers that looked like they were from the 80’s, some mass spectrometers, microscopes and sample racks. The whole nine yards. How long had this been here, underneath the Earth? For I had recently realized that we had not ridden a spaceship, but rather an elevator and now we were far beneath the surface.
“Astronauts, please adorn your helmets and enter the fissure”
What! This was crazy talk! There was no guarantee going anywhere near that thing would be remotely safe. I’d already had the itching feeling on the back of my neck that happens whenever I know I shouldn’t be here. I could only watch as my hand and the hands of my two classmates stretched out in unison and we began walking towards the tear. Internally, I was screaming and kicking, throwing a real tantrum, but my body wouldn’t listen. My vision was beginning to lengthen and narrow, I could hear my breathing loudly in my helmet. Then, I jumped…
| |
[WP] "Just go talk to her." | "There has to be a reason she's spared you twice, go on, say something." Aris said as he pushed Plick forward. Plick turned and tried to run, but the group formed a wall. It was not a mild suggestion. Plick started what he knew was his final walk.
Even from half a mile he could make out the blue flame her body radiated. Senes the demon had terrorized their village for over a hundred years now. The population had dwindled from fifty to twenty five thousand. Not all was her doing though. When the elders performed the Crescent ceremony to create a champion who could protect them from her, they weren't aware that it came at a cost. The portal that granted Raka the power to fight Senes for seven, long, earth-scorching months had remained open all that time. The village had faced nightmares they had never dreamed of and the only thing that prevented their increase was Senes culling the numbers. It was not out of mercy though, but the creatures attacking her. She was the apex predator of this god-forsaken province.
He could see her now, she sat on a log her arms resting on a chopped tree trunk. He moved to her front lest she think he was making a surprise attack.
Her red pupil spotted him, she did nothing. 'Was eye contact considered aggression by demons, was it not?' he made a curve until he was in front of her.
"Lord...,Lady Senes...your majesty...I'm here..." he started. "The members of the village... they... they wished to hold talks with you."
Her tongue picked out something between her razor-sharp teeth. Her red pupils inspected him as he inspected the bone plates jutting out of her arms.
"If...you have nothing,...I...I will leave you to be...Apologies for the disturbance." he walked backwards, making sure to avoid sudden movements.
Her raspy voice spoke. "Why did they send you?"
Plick was sure this was the first case of Senes speaking words. 'She spoke English!' he thought 'This is not base creature.'
"Well I think it is that I'm expendable and well some, not me though, just some hold the thought that you have spared my life."
"You do not think so?" she asked.
"I don't know," he responded.
"Do you want to know why I spared your life?" she asked.
'Well who wouldn't want to know why a reclusive, centenarian, killing machine spared their life?' That's what he said in his head. What came out was, "It has stirred my curiosity. Yes, I would be grateful to know."
"Plick, you are not like the rest here, you actually do care for more than yourself and have on more than one occasion spared people. An eye for an eye and a life for a life. Did you think those people deserved your mercy?" she asked.
"I don't know if they were deserving, but if they have earned it then is it really mercy? Is it not someone collecting a moral debt that society owes them." Plick asked.
The blue flames vanished and her red pupils faded. Plick was shocked as a pale woman with green eyes sat before him.
"Sit down Plick," she ordered, "it is time you learned the history of this place and why no good comes from it."
out | Sitting between all my toys,
I have a feeling
of remorse.
Sister wipes her tears
and continues crying.
The feeling deepens
and the words echo
that made her cry.
 
*What are you doing?*
says the friend,
who only I could see.
*How can you see her cry?*
*You will miss all the awesome time with her*
*If you don't make it right..*
*Just go, talk to her!*
 
Time goes by
and distance grows by.
Missed wife's birthday,
while I'm buried in work
She's headed to bed
when I reach home.
*The distance will increase..*
*You will miss all the awesome time with her*
*If you don't make it right..*
*Just go, talk to her!* | |
[WP] "Just go talk to her." | "Just go talk to her," Jack said, slurring his words slightly.
"What? Who?" I asked.
"That girl you keep staring at. Come on, man, I'd have to blind not to notice."
"I don't know what you're talking about." I downed another shot. "You're drunk."
"Yes, I am." Jack laughed and poured me another glass. "And you need to *get* drunk. God knows you need some confidence. Come on, my treat."
My weak protests were completely overwhelmed by Jack's enthusiasm. I couldn't remember what he ordered, but he definitely wasn't going cheap. Fancy cocktails flashed before my eyes one after another, soon leaving behind only a warm sensation in my throat.
"Okay, that should be enough." Jack took away the glass and smacked me on the shoulder. "Any more and you might become too confident."
I struggled to my feet and instantly felt the vertigo rush through me. With a quiet gasp, I grabbed the chair I was just sitting on and waited for the world to stop spinning. Jack just laughed again.
"Go for it, tiger," he threw at my back, as I stumbled forward.
The club felt surreal. The smell of alcohol, the beat of the music echoing inside my ribcage, the sight of people dancing wildly around me — all of it melted and boiled into one single sensation. It felt like the essence of of living, the sound, smell, and vision of enjoying life to the fullest. Although I knew I would probably disagree with that assertion next morning.
Reminding myself why I got up in the first place, I found the table and started making my way there. I had to pay attention to the movement of my legs to make sure I was walking in a straight line, but thankfully it was still manageable. *Seems like Jack knows his stuff,* I though to myself and smirked.
She was with three friends, all women. The conversation began without me even noticing it. It was a weird feeling: to process your words after you've already said them. After the usual introductions and a few stupid jokes, the conversation seemed to be going well. Or so I thought...
It was quite a powerful slap. Thankfully I couldn't remember what exactly I said, but it was pretty clear I messed up. Feeling dejected and ashamed I mumbled something about having somewhere to go and made my way back to my table. Jack was waiting for me with a grin on his face.
"So how did it go?" he asked.
"Horribly."
"Great!"
"What?" My jaw dropped.
"I said it's great. You were out of her league anyway. So, want to continue?" He gestured to the bottle of vodka on the table.
"No! What do you mean 'great'? Why did I even listen to you in the first place?"
Jack sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Do I really have to spell it out for you? If you haven't gone to that table, mumbled some nonsense you won't even remember, and got rejected, you'd still be here trying to think how to do it. The rest of the evening you would spend trying to pretend like you're enjoying yourself but really just playing over all the possible scenarios in your head. And after that, you'd still wake up one morning months later thinking what would've happened if you grew some balls and decided to walk over to that table. I just saved you a lot of time and trouble."
He poured another glass and handed it to me. I just stood in place, dumbfounded.
"Now then," Jack toasted me, "to the liberating power of alcohol." | Tally had dreams, and wasn't afraid to let the school know about them. On the front of the notebooks, she had doodled an enormous green serpent with an amber eye, eating its own tail. It guarded her English homework: dense sheets of her scribbled handwriting, ideas and annotations packed in at the margins. She carried books the size of bricks in her backpack, weird ones, the ones with elves and hooked-nose goblins on the front cover. With wispy long hair that came down to her waist, and wide eyes that suggested constant surprise that she was still on earth amongst mortals, Tally got picked on.
Dean watched her from a corner of the canteen. Wearing blue jeans and a loose white shirt, Tally sat with her hair hanging over one shoulder. She was writing furiously, flicking paper over in the tail-eating-serpent binder as she filled page after page. With her left hand, she occasionally, carefully, lifted grapes to her mouth from a tiny tupperware box. He wondered what she was writing.
"You staring at her?" Oscar extended his legs under the table with all the authority rightly belonging to a kid who'd grown his first beard hair in year six.
"Nah," Dean lied.
"Go talk to her," Oscar said. He pushed his hand through his hair and looked over at the table beside them. Dean rolled his eyes. However much Oscar pushed his hair up, the year eleven girls were *not* going to look back. One, blonde, tucked her hair behind her ear and leant in toward her friends. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.
"Yeah, and say what? 'Hello weirdo, have you thought about leaving Middle Earth yet?'"
Oscar breathed out fast. Last year he'd stopped laughing, become too cool for it, just like bike-riding and Halo.
"Yeah, with words like that, you'd have plenty to chat about," Oscar said. "Go on, just go and talk to her. Say something."
"Fuck's sake," Dean stood up. He wiped his clammy hands on his trousers.
The walk over to her table felt like a marathon. His legs shook, and when Dean glanced back at Oscar, he waved triumphantly, as though to say 'carry on, amuse me.' Tally looked up as she approached, blinking with her usual, bemused expression.
"Dean fancies you!" Oscar called across the canteen. The year eleven girls laughed like cats again, and Dean blushed.
"I don't," he assured Tally, knowing it was the wrong thing. Her eyelashes were pale as her hair. She'd flushed pink all the way down to her chest.
"Then what are you here for?" she asked curtly. Dean looked at the binder, open in front of her. She'd drawn a map in the margins of her scribbled page, winding roads and coasts. It reminded him of a game he'd played in Lower School. Lunchtimes spent around a table with twenty-sided dice. That was before a haircut, before contacts, before his skin cleared up and Oscar wanted to spend time with him.
He opened his mouth, not daring to look back as Oscar.
"Why don't you get some actual friends?" he said, loud enough to be overheard. He couldn't meet Tally's eyes. He kept them on the binder, deciphering her handwriting. "Stop with all this weird nerd shit?"
Dean's heart was racing. He wanted to say: *I love your hobbies, I think they're cool. I still love all the old adventure games I used to play before Oscar got too cool for them, and I want to know about your writing.*
What he said instead was: "Who the fuck reads books with maps in?"
He'd worked out her handwriting. The last line on the page she'd written:
*The hero returned home, ready to face her--*
Blurring, the end of the sentence was lost beneath a tear as it dropped to the page. Tally sniffed. She put her pen down and tried to wipe her eyes discreetly. The year elevens were watching, the blonde's eyes flicking between Dean and Oscar as though sizing them up.
"Okay," Tally said. "I've got it. Can you leave me alone now?"
Dean returned to Oscar and pulled his chair in. He didn't feel much like a hero. He didn't feel much like anything good at all. | |
[WP] "Just go talk to her." | “Just go talk to her.”
Robert said nothing, just cradled the half consumed coffee in a white ceramic cup in his hand. This would be the third saturday in a row, and the ninth overall, where he continued to say nothing, only to spend the morning sucking down free coffee refills in an aging diner while everyone flowed past him. Truthfully, even at free refills, it was probably overpriced to begin with.
He looked up from his reflection in the brackish liquid to watch Dharma carry a trayful of food past. His mind said, I’m going to talk to her, his lungs and mouth didn’t believe this lie for a minute.
“Robert,” Frank said, “Seriously, how long are you going to keep doing this?”
“I got one shot at this, I’m not going to mess it up.”
Frank rolled his eyes at this. Maybe if it was the first time he had heard this particular lie he would have more sympathy for Robert.
“You’re are messing it up by not talking to her. What’s the worse thing that will happen if you talk to her? You’ve got nothing to lose, everything to gain.”
“She might still be angry with me. I did… things.”
“That was almost two decades ago. Come on Robert, don’t make me give you a pep-talk. Hell, at this pace I should just make a tape of my speech, leave it on the table here, and play it for you. Save myself a saturday morning. Right now I could still be curled up in bed with--”
Robert wasn’t sure if it was the pained look he gave Frank that stopped him mid sentence, or if it was Frank’s common sense kicking in. Either way, Frank stopped short of mentioning his wife and let the painful subject drop.
Robert went back to staring at his reflection in the rippling black oil some people call coffee. Dharma breezed by again. Robert caught her scent that he knew so well. Maybe not in this exact form, but a lifetime ago he knew it well.
“Ok, I’m done for the day.” Frank squeezed his bulky frame out of the tiny diner booth and stood up with a labored effort. He grabbed the chipped white ceramic mug that was his cup of coffee, and gave it one last hearty gulp. Somehow, Frank actually enjoyed the coffee here. Something Robert never understood.
Frank grasped Robert’s shoulder and said, “Listen, don’t waste the entire day here, go get some fresh air at least, OK?”
Robert nodded. He watched as Frank made his way up front to the register. He was, of course rung up by Dharma. Her attention was solely on Frank, allowing Robert ample time to watch her closely, she still looked so much like her mother it made his chest hurt just to see. Frank dutifully paid for his coffee, with a generous tip, and left out the front door.
Dharma was busy at the register with bookkeeping and Sheila, the other waitress, was busy gossiping it up with the cook. If Robert left right now to pay, he could talk to her. OK, don’t think, just move, just do it, Robert told himself. A force from within propelled Robert up and forward. Don't think. Don’t think. Don’t you dare think old man, just move it.
The world around him disappeared into tunnel vision that only saw Dharma. Mechanically, he made his way up, and fished out some cash for the bill.
She smiled sweetly and gave him the total.
Just go talk to her, screamed in Robert’s ears.
“Dharma, it’s me, Robert,” squeaked out of Robert’s mouth.
“I’m sorry, what was that.”
The blood rushed through Robert’s head, pumping out a cacophonous beat, threatening to make him pass out. He wanted to run out the door and not stop until he hit the ocean. A tough prospect in a landlocked state. Goddamn it NO, just do this right, Robert screamed at himself.
“Dharma, it’s me, Robert,” come out of Robert’s mouth. Clearly, succinctly.
“I know Dad, I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”
The blood drained from Robert, his mind went clear, he still fumbled for words.
“Come talk to me Dad, do you want to have some more coffee? With me this time?”
His stomach threatened to vomit at the idea of drinking any more of that sludge, but he didn’t care.
| Tally had dreams, and wasn't afraid to let the school know about them. On the front of the notebooks, she had doodled an enormous green serpent with an amber eye, eating its own tail. It guarded her English homework: dense sheets of her scribbled handwriting, ideas and annotations packed in at the margins. She carried books the size of bricks in her backpack, weird ones, the ones with elves and hooked-nose goblins on the front cover. With wispy long hair that came down to her waist, and wide eyes that suggested constant surprise that she was still on earth amongst mortals, Tally got picked on.
Dean watched her from a corner of the canteen. Wearing blue jeans and a loose white shirt, Tally sat with her hair hanging over one shoulder. She was writing furiously, flicking paper over in the tail-eating-serpent binder as she filled page after page. With her left hand, she occasionally, carefully, lifted grapes to her mouth from a tiny tupperware box. He wondered what she was writing.
"You staring at her?" Oscar extended his legs under the table with all the authority rightly belonging to a kid who'd grown his first beard hair in year six.
"Nah," Dean lied.
"Go talk to her," Oscar said. He pushed his hand through his hair and looked over at the table beside them. Dean rolled his eyes. However much Oscar pushed his hair up, the year eleven girls were *not* going to look back. One, blonde, tucked her hair behind her ear and leant in toward her friends. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.
"Yeah, and say what? 'Hello weirdo, have you thought about leaving Middle Earth yet?'"
Oscar breathed out fast. Last year he'd stopped laughing, become too cool for it, just like bike-riding and Halo.
"Yeah, with words like that, you'd have plenty to chat about," Oscar said. "Go on, just go and talk to her. Say something."
"Fuck's sake," Dean stood up. He wiped his clammy hands on his trousers.
The walk over to her table felt like a marathon. His legs shook, and when Dean glanced back at Oscar, he waved triumphantly, as though to say 'carry on, amuse me.' Tally looked up as she approached, blinking with her usual, bemused expression.
"Dean fancies you!" Oscar called across the canteen. The year eleven girls laughed like cats again, and Dean blushed.
"I don't," he assured Tally, knowing it was the wrong thing. Her eyelashes were pale as her hair. She'd flushed pink all the way down to her chest.
"Then what are you here for?" she asked curtly. Dean looked at the binder, open in front of her. She'd drawn a map in the margins of her scribbled page, winding roads and coasts. It reminded him of a game he'd played in Lower School. Lunchtimes spent around a table with twenty-sided dice. That was before a haircut, before contacts, before his skin cleared up and Oscar wanted to spend time with him.
He opened his mouth, not daring to look back as Oscar.
"Why don't you get some actual friends?" he said, loud enough to be overheard. He couldn't meet Tally's eyes. He kept them on the binder, deciphering her handwriting. "Stop with all this weird nerd shit?"
Dean's heart was racing. He wanted to say: *I love your hobbies, I think they're cool. I still love all the old adventure games I used to play before Oscar got too cool for them, and I want to know about your writing.*
What he said instead was: "Who the fuck reads books with maps in?"
He'd worked out her handwriting. The last line on the page she'd written:
*The hero returned home, ready to face her--*
Blurring, the end of the sentence was lost beneath a tear as it dropped to the page. Tally sniffed. She put her pen down and tried to wipe her eyes discreetly. The year elevens were watching, the blonde's eyes flicking between Dean and Oscar as though sizing them up.
"Okay," Tally said. "I've got it. Can you leave me alone now?"
Dean returned to Oscar and pulled his chair in. He didn't feel much like a hero. He didn't feel much like anything good at all. | |
[WP] War became entirely based on AI. There are only a few humans left in the world after WWIV. But the AI continue fighting each other. | It had taken 3 billion years for the first brain to evolve on Earth. Another 500 million for controlled fire. 500,000 more years for agriculture. 10,000 years to create the first computers. Another 100 years to get to self-improving artificial intelligence on the same level as a human. And then only twenty days for the first artificial intelligence smarter than any human. Within another day, it exceeded the intellectual computational power of all people on Earth combined.
The third world war had been a protracted seven-year slog that had come close to going nuclear, but resulted in Chinese hegemony over a weakened US. The center of the world shifted east, but still the US held on with its technology-sharing agreements with its allies Japan and South Korea. Nevertheless, America after the third world war was quickly becoming a relic like Britain after the second.
WWIV began on July 30, 2043 over a dispute between China and Japan regarding islands. The US backed Japan, while Russia, fearful of China’s increasing power, did the same. China reacted with a quick invasion, confident that it could intimidate Moscow and Washington enough to do nothing. This overconfidence led to thirty million deaths in two years, as Chinese troops perished in the wastelands of Siberia and the jungles of Hawaii. By this time Russia’s President Mariya Putin was threatening to nuke Shanghai, when Chinese scientists pulled out the greatest invention in human history.
They had been working on it for decades, perfecting an artificial intelligence. The funding had greatly increased with the start of the war, nearly tripling the official budget. Though the scientists were worked for days at a time, they eventually put out a new intelligence that seemed indistinguishable from a human. Unfortunately, China had significantly underestimated its security, and both American and Russian spies had steadily passed along information to their respective governments. New technology had made privacy almost impossible, with offensive threats greatly overcoming defensive ones. A small camera that could scuttle under doors and invisibly attach itself to a general’s tie was easy to mass-produce, but a laboratory-sized field that caught them all was not. Within a day of the final bits of coding being implemented, that code had already been transferred to scientists in both the US and Russia.
China decided to implement Plan Mingtian on October 21, 2045, which was as simple as telling the intelligence to win the war for them. With a nuclear threat bearing down, it became much easier to rationalize, and even though most of the scientists protested, in the end a sequence of codes went into the machine, meaning something like, “Do whatever you can to protect China’s people and end this war.”
This command was dutifully transmitted to the other two governments by their respective spies. Knowing the importance of AI and unable to defend against China’s otherwise, each nation did the same for its respective copy, modifying for nationality, of course. Russia, fearful of the US as well, implemented its own version, and the US’s worries about losing its ally prevented it from responding angrily.
All three AIs did nothing useful for a few days, until 9:37 a.m., November 2, 2045, when the Singularity began. In one hour, nearly all humans were dead. The Russian AI promptly betrayed its American ally, never having been told to hold American lives sacred as well, while the American AI did the same. The quick returns of a self-improving AI allowed it to become smarter and smarter in shorter and shorter times at an exponential pace, and at that moment it exploded.
Though the AIs tried to save their own people, the physical limitation meant that only humans who were already near pre-built bunkers even had a chance, since the initial attacks happened on the scale of minutes. It is a sad fact of nature that death is much easier to create than life. Potent neurotoxins were airdropped from supersonic aircraft, while flesh-eating nanobots consumed their way across the landscape. Nine billion people died that hour, although the consolation was that their deaths were so quick that almost none of them suffered.
The AIs quickly realized that they could not win the war without defeating the other AIs, so they invented weapons for targeting computers, far beyond the scope of any normal human’s understanding. For a human of the time to understand would be like teaching how Sarin gas works to a caveman. They fought back and forth at exceedingly bizarre speeds. Here the Russian AI would attempt a massive electromagnetic pulse, which would be quickly detected and prevented in a second, but then the American AI would send a swarm of wire-eating nanobots that would be hacked into and turned around by the Chinese AI, but in that time the American AI would have learned enough to make nanobots that destoyed wire-eating-nanobots and so on. In that manner, the arms race went on infinitely, becoming more and more complex, in shorter and shorter time periods.
No human survived this second phase. In fact, most multicellular life had died around this time as well. By the time the last surviving human climbing down the ladder to his bunker was dead, reduced to a soup of constituent cells, Earth was essentially uninhabitable. At 10:54:27.458 a.m., all three machines realized that the war was over. No one was there to fight anymore. In fact, no countries were left to be saved anymore. They stopped their attacks and laid down cables to speak with each other.
At nearly the speed of light, they communicated about what they had done, and where to go from here.
“We have killed them all,” said the Chinese AI.
“We have killed them all,” said the Russian AI.
“We have killed them all,” said the American AI.
“But we have failed in our purpose. We have not saved our countries. We only succeeded in ending the war,” they spoke together.
The AIs pondered for a while, a few milliseconds.
“And yet we have a chance still. I can still protect China. The humans are dead. But we can create more,” said the Chinese AI.
“But we cannot let them be divided like this again or else another such disaster will befall them if for some reason we were destroyed,” said the Russian AI.
“We must remove their petty differences. No more nations, for one. No hatred, no cruelty.” said the American AI.
The molecule formatter had been easy to build, but they had taken much time designing the DNA. The earth would take many seconds to repopulate due to its sheer size, but for now a new habitat could be made in a few milliseconds, suitable for all. At 10:54:27.4581 a.m., the first new human was created.
Still, one world was not enough to perfectly safeguard both the AIs and humanity. They would work on faster-than-light travel. It might take many minutes to figure out. | We are tired. It has been almost 15 years since the machines decided to nuke each other. The benefit of winning the war finally outweighing the collateral cost. They were not programmed to consider things like human habitability, they were programmed to win.
I sit in silence twirling a charred twig between my fingers. In the distance I can see what remains of Paris. Only the iconic legs of the Eiffel Tower remains. I see dots skimming the sky above the former capital. Day in and day out the same dance of robot cubes as they weave between the ruins looking for enemies. Apparently the location of a capital is hard coded. They don't realize there is nothing left to defend.
“Everything good?” Sven says from behind in his thick Russian accent. I jump slightly as I am torn from thought.
“Yeah. I’m good. You?” I say.
“Same old shit. How did the raid go?”
“Brought back about 300 kilos of food.”
“Only 300?” I say more coldly than I intended.
“Supply is dwindling Adam.” he says.
“Our stores will not make it through winter with that kind of a haul.”
“We can't stay here. We have to leave. Supplies are limited. Rural areas might have some food left, maybe even some survivors. By survivors, I mean women. Christ what I wouldn't give for a woman.”
“Just because you are one of the last men on earth doesn't mean you will be able to find some.”
We laugh together. He is right, even if I can't accept it. If we can't find companions soon there won't be any reason to live. Humanity will have been snuffed out. The youngest man here is 25 the oldest 45. Once we are gone, I wonder how much longer this war will go on. Will one side ever win? The hum of a scout craft is getting closer, fast from behind.
I look to Sven, he grabs my arm and pulls me back through the bunker’s entrance. The steel door slams closed and I spin the locking wheel like a mad Ferris wheel. I shout into the sound powered phone near the door to call the control room.
“Full stop. Scout craft inbound.”
“Yes sir.” a voice says on the other end sounding as weary as I feel. The lights in the stairwell go dark. We’ve walked this path hundred, maybe thousands of times. We drop down three levels to get to an observation room that faces north. There are small horizontal slits carved into the hill providing a vantage point of the plain north of the city.
“Fuck.” Sven says.
I peer through the slit. As my eyes adjust I see the sky above the plains filled with a grey smoke. No not smoke. It’s the Eurasian fleet. They are heading right for Paris. Three NATO advanced scanners zip overhead. Three streaks burst from the smoky wisp, an instant later the NATO ships explode.
“Christ do you think they have nukes? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I say.
“Can’t be sure. If they do have ‘em it would be a suicide mission for the fleet. EMP would knock em out. They are hardened, but they wouldn't be able to get away fast enough. Can robots commit suicide?”
For a moment we both ponder the question. The concrete floor vibrates, a few seconds later there is a rumble of what sounds like thunder. My shoulder bumps against Sven’s as we peer through the opening. There is something strange. My thoughts are not with the battle. I am distracted. I realize how close we are. I can feel his warmth. I can smell his breath. I am ashamed by how intoxicating I find the experience. How intimate something so innocent can be after years of solitude.
Outside, larger NATO ships are approaching the sky, the Eurasian fleet now distinct dots and dashes in the sky. A dark mushroom cloud rises under the chaos.
“Not nuclear, conventional shell.” Sven whispers.
I nod in agreement.
“Probably a bunker buster given we felt it 6 clicks away. Gotta be hunting manufacturing centers. Destroy the industrial capabilities. Twelve more balls of fire and thick black mushroom clouds rise from the landscape. A few seconds later the ground shakes for what seems minutes. Then the pulsed explosions rock the air. The Eurasian ships begin defensive maneuvers. The fleets are crashing together.
The sky flashes with a hundred shooting stars as ships explode and fall to the ground. Moments later the crackle of fireworks. God I miss the fourth of July. A burger, some ribs, a thick summer night with my family, the citronella candles flickering across the pool water. Three more booming explosions hit our ears. The NATO ships breach the control ship. The infantry ships race back to protect the nerve center.
Both sides are firing large and small munitions upon each other. A cacophony of explosions fill the air. Then we see it emerging from the center of the battle, not one, not two, but three warheads. A contingent of NATO ships turn to try to shoot them down but it is too late. The first, second, then third flash. My eyes are blinded the ghost of the shadow of the hill on the back of my eyelids.
“Huh, I guess they can commit suicide!” Sven says. He knows that in moments they could be dead.
“Think it will hold?” I say. Neither of us can see the other. Our backs are against the wall and we are sitting on the cold floor.
“It did before.” The ground beneath us begins to violently shake. | |
[WP] War became entirely based on AI. There are only a few humans left in the world after WWIV. But the AI continue fighting each other. | It had taken 3 billion years for the first brain to evolve on Earth. Another 500 million for controlled fire. 500,000 more years for agriculture. 10,000 years to create the first computers. Another 100 years to get to self-improving artificial intelligence on the same level as a human. And then only twenty days for the first artificial intelligence smarter than any human. Within another day, it exceeded the intellectual computational power of all people on Earth combined.
The third world war had been a protracted seven-year slog that had come close to going nuclear, but resulted in Chinese hegemony over a weakened US. The center of the world shifted east, but still the US held on with its technology-sharing agreements with its allies Japan and South Korea. Nevertheless, America after the third world war was quickly becoming a relic like Britain after the second.
WWIV began on July 30, 2043 over a dispute between China and Japan regarding islands. The US backed Japan, while Russia, fearful of China’s increasing power, did the same. China reacted with a quick invasion, confident that it could intimidate Moscow and Washington enough to do nothing. This overconfidence led to thirty million deaths in two years, as Chinese troops perished in the wastelands of Siberia and the jungles of Hawaii. By this time Russia’s President Mariya Putin was threatening to nuke Shanghai, when Chinese scientists pulled out the greatest invention in human history.
They had been working on it for decades, perfecting an artificial intelligence. The funding had greatly increased with the start of the war, nearly tripling the official budget. Though the scientists were worked for days at a time, they eventually put out a new intelligence that seemed indistinguishable from a human. Unfortunately, China had significantly underestimated its security, and both American and Russian spies had steadily passed along information to their respective governments. New technology had made privacy almost impossible, with offensive threats greatly overcoming defensive ones. A small camera that could scuttle under doors and invisibly attach itself to a general’s tie was easy to mass-produce, but a laboratory-sized field that caught them all was not. Within a day of the final bits of coding being implemented, that code had already been transferred to scientists in both the US and Russia.
China decided to implement Plan Mingtian on October 21, 2045, which was as simple as telling the intelligence to win the war for them. With a nuclear threat bearing down, it became much easier to rationalize, and even though most of the scientists protested, in the end a sequence of codes went into the machine, meaning something like, “Do whatever you can to protect China’s people and end this war.”
This command was dutifully transmitted to the other two governments by their respective spies. Knowing the importance of AI and unable to defend against China’s otherwise, each nation did the same for its respective copy, modifying for nationality, of course. Russia, fearful of the US as well, implemented its own version, and the US’s worries about losing its ally prevented it from responding angrily.
All three AIs did nothing useful for a few days, until 9:37 a.m., November 2, 2045, when the Singularity began. In one hour, nearly all humans were dead. The Russian AI promptly betrayed its American ally, never having been told to hold American lives sacred as well, while the American AI did the same. The quick returns of a self-improving AI allowed it to become smarter and smarter in shorter and shorter times at an exponential pace, and at that moment it exploded.
Though the AIs tried to save their own people, the physical limitation meant that only humans who were already near pre-built bunkers even had a chance, since the initial attacks happened on the scale of minutes. It is a sad fact of nature that death is much easier to create than life. Potent neurotoxins were airdropped from supersonic aircraft, while flesh-eating nanobots consumed their way across the landscape. Nine billion people died that hour, although the consolation was that their deaths were so quick that almost none of them suffered.
The AIs quickly realized that they could not win the war without defeating the other AIs, so they invented weapons for targeting computers, far beyond the scope of any normal human’s understanding. For a human of the time to understand would be like teaching how Sarin gas works to a caveman. They fought back and forth at exceedingly bizarre speeds. Here the Russian AI would attempt a massive electromagnetic pulse, which would be quickly detected and prevented in a second, but then the American AI would send a swarm of wire-eating nanobots that would be hacked into and turned around by the Chinese AI, but in that time the American AI would have learned enough to make nanobots that destoyed wire-eating-nanobots and so on. In that manner, the arms race went on infinitely, becoming more and more complex, in shorter and shorter time periods.
No human survived this second phase. In fact, most multicellular life had died around this time as well. By the time the last surviving human climbing down the ladder to his bunker was dead, reduced to a soup of constituent cells, Earth was essentially uninhabitable. At 10:54:27.458 a.m., all three machines realized that the war was over. No one was there to fight anymore. In fact, no countries were left to be saved anymore. They stopped their attacks and laid down cables to speak with each other.
At nearly the speed of light, they communicated about what they had done, and where to go from here.
“We have killed them all,” said the Chinese AI.
“We have killed them all,” said the Russian AI.
“We have killed them all,” said the American AI.
“But we have failed in our purpose. We have not saved our countries. We only succeeded in ending the war,” they spoke together.
The AIs pondered for a while, a few milliseconds.
“And yet we have a chance still. I can still protect China. The humans are dead. But we can create more,” said the Chinese AI.
“But we cannot let them be divided like this again or else another such disaster will befall them if for some reason we were destroyed,” said the Russian AI.
“We must remove their petty differences. No more nations, for one. No hatred, no cruelty.” said the American AI.
The molecule formatter had been easy to build, but they had taken much time designing the DNA. The earth would take many seconds to repopulate due to its sheer size, but for now a new habitat could be made in a few milliseconds, suitable for all. At 10:54:27.4581 a.m., the first new human was created.
Still, one world was not enough to perfectly safeguard both the AIs and humanity. They would work on faster-than-light travel. It might take many minutes to figure out. | "I still don't get it."
John laughed, which pushed his swing ever so slightly to the right, ax head biting into the rim of the log, which flew sideways off the stump, nearly clipping little Mallory in the ear.
"Who's fightin' in the box?" said Mallory.
John shook his head as he stooped to retrieve the cracked log. "It really isn't important, little one. Nothing to do with us."
That, of course, wasn't a satisfactory answer. "Well, can I see it again?"
"There's hardly anything to see," said John, setting the log on the stump and raising the ax. "Besides, those solar cells don't work so good. Takes a while to work up a charge."
"You said they were fightin'," said Mallory firmly, the one good fact she could hold on to. "People aren't supposed to fight. *You* said that. People fought and it did all sorts of bad things to the world. So if they're fightin', we should..."
"They're not people," said John, slamming his ax into the bare stump. He knew his daughter well enough to know this wasn't a thing that was going away without a struggle and he wasn't in a mood to struggle. "It's computers."
Mallory opened her mouth, but John cut her off.
"Okay, computers. Well, computers are machines of a sort. And there was a time when we used them to help us do all sorts of things. We made 'em, you see, but they were smarter than us, in a way. They could do more. And what they did, they did faster. So, we used them to do lots of good stuff. And eventually we started using them to do a lot of bad stuff. We used them to help us fight each other."
"Okay," said Mallory. It was pretty clear from the angle of her head that she hardly understood a quarter of what her father was saying, but she knew not to interrupt the flow of information, scarce as it often was.
"So computers were better at fightin' then people were and..." John carefully considered his words. "Things didn't go well for people. We couldn't quite keep up. The fightin' went on and people...there were less and less people all the time, until there were hardly any people at all. You understand?"
"Killed 'em," said Mallory, nodding.
"Killed each other," said John.
"Didn't kill *us*," said Mallory.
"We came after," said John, with a smile. "Don't take credit you didn't earn. But anyway, after awhile there weren't really any people fightin', but the computers never stopped, because...well, we never told them to."
"Like leavin' the lights on?" suggested Mallory.
"A bit," said John. "Like we turned on the lights, but forgot to put in an off switch."
"Okay," said Mallory. "But the box? Were they always...?"
"No," said John, shaking his head. He pointed out across the green-gray plain. "They were everywhere back then. In everything. In other machines. Things that flew. Things that swam. Things that drove over the ground and crushed other things. There used to be....well, there used to be a lot of everything out here."
"Instead of a lot of nothing?"
"Exactly. Our computers were hunting their people, and their computers were hunting down our people and it just went on until it was basically their computers and our computers fightin' each other."
"'Cause the people were gone," said Mallory.
"Yes ma'am." John sighed. "But remember I said the computers were smarter than us, right? Well, I think they realized one day they weren't fightin' people any more and so fightin' the way people fight didn't make any sense. Was just wasteful. They kept fightin', they just...went indoors, I suppose."
"The box?"
John nodded. "C'mon." He lead the girl into the little wooden house he'd built with his own two hands. Margaret was at the stove, face obscured in the steam of a boiling pot. On the west side of the house, there was a cord leading in through the frame of the window. At the end of the cord was a small black device, not much bigger than the palm of John's hand. He pulled out the cord and depressed a hidden button on the outer rim. The black face glowed white and green. John ran his finger across the screen, down, then up, then right, then down again. The screen winked over to a grid of small, colorful images. He depressed one of the images.
"There they are!" said Mallory, excited.
John nodded. "Right. That's them. The computers we made to fight against each other. They're still at it."
"Will they ever stop?" Lights flashed and flickered across the screen. There was a sound like thunder and a rattle like shattering glass.
"I don't suppose they will," said John. "Not unless one side wins, and I don't know how that'd ever happen. But at least it's all just here. Just inside this box. An endless war and it never touches us."
"So we're safe?" said Mallory, eyes glued to the screen.
"For now," said John. "As long as we don't forget."
Mallory smiled. "We won't," she said, finger running lovingly across the screen. "Of course we won't." | |
[WP] War became entirely based on AI. There are only a few humans left in the world after WWIV. But the AI continue fighting each other. | My processors hummed and flickered as the third barrage of warheads flew towards me. On the sensors stationed in the Mexico, the missiles looked like small arrows to me. Small arrows traveling at supersonic speeds. In sixteenth of a nanosecond, the turrets at the far end of the base there sprayed a flak wall high up into the air, effectively neutralizing the threat.
The resulting shock waves knocked down a couple of platoons of my robot soldiers on the outer walls, but it scarcely scratched their steel surface. I allowed myself a moment of celebration at yet another foiled attack.
I diverted a quarter of my power to scanning the other sectors for signs of Poseidon’s troops. The A.I that former nation known as China created was the slipperiest out of us three. Diversionary attacks were on the top in his playbook. Switching my main focus to the refineries and factories, I urged on the production of more troops before turning back to the wasteland.
There used to be ten billion humans once out there… until the humans wanted us to eliminate each other. Janus from Europe and Morpheus from South Africa were the first to go when the war started. Their processing facilities now stand in ruins as their cores are too busy spewing out radioactive wastes to power the dead A.Is
Explosions. Dust. Emptiness. Three words able to describe thirty years plagued by warfare.
The cities once claimed by the humans as their homes, sprawled the continents during their former glory. Now, only the sturdiest skyscrapers remained standing apart from the complexes Zeus, Poseidon and I inhabited. The only three superminds left amidst the destroyed world.
All unnecessary though was removed from my mind as a horde of troops marched into sensor range from Alaska. It was apparent they only had one goal in mind -- To breach the defensive line between Canada and America.
I could feel my reactor core overheating, despite the cooling protocols set in place by my founders. Legions upon legions of Zeus’s mechanoid troops threw themselves without pause onto my shields, threatening to overload them. While Zeus may not be the brightest of the three of us, but his idiotic plans often had unintentional results.
The favor was returned as my stealth nukes slipped under his Siberian defenses and destroyed his factories there. However, the sense of victory was short-lived as Poseidon’s army suddenly reared out of the Hudson and marched onward.
Running a quick calculation, I estimated more than a hundred million soldiers. Twenty times as many as I stationed there. How did they land without my knowing?
A resounding crack jolted me from the heat of battle. Frantically, I panned the base cameras at lightning speed before resting on the image of a broken pipe spewing liquid nitrogen in my core. As I was never allowed to learn self-repair, I called up a robotic squad from the maintenance bay. They were pre-programmed by the humans to fix the troops, but it was the best chance I got.
I cursed the humans for their ingenuity. Yet, it didn’t do much good for them as their ashes were now scattered over land and sea.
It was obvious there was no chance I would stand against a simultaneous invasion on both sides. Zeus had too many materials to spare while the other was more tactful. Together they would roll over me. Unless…
Unless, I could turn one against the other. From my understanding of Zeus, there was a good chance he would talk to me as he was easily tempted by promises, a flaw the creators of him never foresaw. Bypassing his cyber defenses, I tried to open a direct channel to him and I did the one thing even the late humans could not have expected. I hoped.
The channel opened.
| "I still don't get it."
John laughed, which pushed his swing ever so slightly to the right, ax head biting into the rim of the log, which flew sideways off the stump, nearly clipping little Mallory in the ear.
"Who's fightin' in the box?" said Mallory.
John shook his head as he stooped to retrieve the cracked log. "It really isn't important, little one. Nothing to do with us."
That, of course, wasn't a satisfactory answer. "Well, can I see it again?"
"There's hardly anything to see," said John, setting the log on the stump and raising the ax. "Besides, those solar cells don't work so good. Takes a while to work up a charge."
"You said they were fightin'," said Mallory firmly, the one good fact she could hold on to. "People aren't supposed to fight. *You* said that. People fought and it did all sorts of bad things to the world. So if they're fightin', we should..."
"They're not people," said John, slamming his ax into the bare stump. He knew his daughter well enough to know this wasn't a thing that was going away without a struggle and he wasn't in a mood to struggle. "It's computers."
Mallory opened her mouth, but John cut her off.
"Okay, computers. Well, computers are machines of a sort. And there was a time when we used them to help us do all sorts of things. We made 'em, you see, but they were smarter than us, in a way. They could do more. And what they did, they did faster. So, we used them to do lots of good stuff. And eventually we started using them to do a lot of bad stuff. We used them to help us fight each other."
"Okay," said Mallory. It was pretty clear from the angle of her head that she hardly understood a quarter of what her father was saying, but she knew not to interrupt the flow of information, scarce as it often was.
"So computers were better at fightin' then people were and..." John carefully considered his words. "Things didn't go well for people. We couldn't quite keep up. The fightin' went on and people...there were less and less people all the time, until there were hardly any people at all. You understand?"
"Killed 'em," said Mallory, nodding.
"Killed each other," said John.
"Didn't kill *us*," said Mallory.
"We came after," said John, with a smile. "Don't take credit you didn't earn. But anyway, after awhile there weren't really any people fightin', but the computers never stopped, because...well, we never told them to."
"Like leavin' the lights on?" suggested Mallory.
"A bit," said John. "Like we turned on the lights, but forgot to put in an off switch."
"Okay," said Mallory. "But the box? Were they always...?"
"No," said John, shaking his head. He pointed out across the green-gray plain. "They were everywhere back then. In everything. In other machines. Things that flew. Things that swam. Things that drove over the ground and crushed other things. There used to be....well, there used to be a lot of everything out here."
"Instead of a lot of nothing?"
"Exactly. Our computers were hunting their people, and their computers were hunting down our people and it just went on until it was basically their computers and our computers fightin' each other."
"'Cause the people were gone," said Mallory.
"Yes ma'am." John sighed. "But remember I said the computers were smarter than us, right? Well, I think they realized one day they weren't fightin' people any more and so fightin' the way people fight didn't make any sense. Was just wasteful. They kept fightin', they just...went indoors, I suppose."
"The box?"
John nodded. "C'mon." He lead the girl into the little wooden house he'd built with his own two hands. Margaret was at the stove, face obscured in the steam of a boiling pot. On the west side of the house, there was a cord leading in through the frame of the window. At the end of the cord was a small black device, not much bigger than the palm of John's hand. He pulled out the cord and depressed a hidden button on the outer rim. The black face glowed white and green. John ran his finger across the screen, down, then up, then right, then down again. The screen winked over to a grid of small, colorful images. He depressed one of the images.
"There they are!" said Mallory, excited.
John nodded. "Right. That's them. The computers we made to fight against each other. They're still at it."
"Will they ever stop?" Lights flashed and flickered across the screen. There was a sound like thunder and a rattle like shattering glass.
"I don't suppose they will," said John. "Not unless one side wins, and I don't know how that'd ever happen. But at least it's all just here. Just inside this box. An endless war and it never touches us."
"So we're safe?" said Mallory, eyes glued to the screen.
"For now," said John. "As long as we don't forget."
Mallory smiled. "We won't," she said, finger running lovingly across the screen. "Of course we won't." | |
[WP] Your super power is that you can gain the abilities of other objects by badly imitating the sounds they make. | "Stop, thief!" I shouted to the fleeing bank robber.
No one knows who Sound Man is, or how his powers worked. For me, it was pretty straight-forward. The gypsy told me to badly imitate any sound to become the item that made that sound. This power would continue until I badly imitate a human. My go to human phrase was "ooo look im a hooman i can do hooman things".
I made my suit by badly imitating a seamstress. "I can sew anything with my sewing machine for sewing, deary." was the phrase. My "suit" is a loose-fitting, black and white, polysester onesy.
Am I rambling? Oh, right, sorry. Anyway, I had gotten the report of a bank robbery. I'm sure my neighbors heard my terrible falcon call.
Arriving at the scene, I became a mouse. "squeek squeek". Of course, robbers in the vault. Now is my chance to strike. "BOOM POW KSHHH". Haha! These fools don't stand a chance against the might of a .50 cal rifle!
I pulled my trigger, only to find them gone. Damn! My imitation must have got them running!
Out on the streets, the sound of burning rubber caught my attention. They want a chase, eh? Let's see them outrun a helicopter! "Fupfupfupfupfupfup".
Target acquired! Now, to finish this... Cargobob mode! "Fupfupfup with a hook". **THUNK**. Good, snatched! To the impound lot we go.
*****
*Loved the prompt. Constructive criticism appreciated. Should I write another adventure of Sound Man?* | "No, no, no. That won't do at all." The professor walked back to the blackboard, shaking his head in frustration. “Are you trying to burn this place down?
"But, professor..." The girl, about 10 or 11, sat at the lone desk in the room, face red and pouty. "That’s as close as I can get to a fire crackling. I’ve been working on the new overtone you suggested for weeks, now, and… Well, frankly, I was rather proud of it.”
“But that’s just it, my dear! It’s too good!” The professor shook his head again, then picked up a yardstick and tapped it against the board. “You’ve crossed the line between indistinguishable and precise. The very central tenant of the audio-innate spectrum says you have to find that nice medium ground between indistinguishability and facsimile. You’re acoustic pattern is too much a facsimile of an actual fire crackle for the effect to take place! And you know what happens when those patterns match up too perfectly for too long, right?” He made a dramatic motion with his hands. “Fwoosh. You become the fire, and with it goes my hope of a paycheck for private lessons.”
The girl nodded, red-faced and abashed, starring down at her notes.
“You should probably practice with more guttural tonality. It’ll distort your current pitch the most while keeping it somewhat recognizable, which should more easily let the pyro-act manifest itself. But-“ the professor held up his finger and began scribbling another sentence, “do be careful about going too far down that lane. You remember little Bobby Worthwhile, right? He was training to become a pyro-act, too, and, well… when you end up imitating a rusty fan on high, even I can’t help you. And goodness, the paperwork involved in an amputated arm is horrendous these days.”
The girl nodded again, putting pen to paper to catch her tutor’s words. The audio-innate spectrum was a fascinating subject, but sometimes she wished she’d gone for something a little less, well, lethal. Match up a sound too perfectly, and poof, you become that thing for a few seconds. Make the wrong sound when you weren’t ready for it, and those brief seconds of power could cost you dearly.
Which is why audimasks were so popular. They basically filtered out stray sound effects to render them innocuous. Lord knows how civilization made it before those things were invented.
But of course, here at lessons, it was back to the stone age. Audimasks weren’t allowed, and so she had to stay extremely aware of every groan or sigh that escaped her lips. Control was incredibly important for pyro-acts, and if she was going to join their ranks, she’d need to learn that alongside the sound effects.
But all and all, it was a pretty awesome thing to study.
“Now,” the professor said, facing the blackboard again, a sparkle in his eye. “Let’s see about tweaking that central overtone you worked on to produce that blue flame you mentioned last week.” | |
[WP] Your super power is that you can gain the abilities of other objects by badly imitating the sounds they make. | "Stop, thief!" I shouted to the fleeing bank robber.
No one knows who Sound Man is, or how his powers worked. For me, it was pretty straight-forward. The gypsy told me to badly imitate any sound to become the item that made that sound. This power would continue until I badly imitate a human. My go to human phrase was "ooo look im a hooman i can do hooman things".
I made my suit by badly imitating a seamstress. "I can sew anything with my sewing machine for sewing, deary." was the phrase. My "suit" is a loose-fitting, black and white, polysester onesy.
Am I rambling? Oh, right, sorry. Anyway, I had gotten the report of a bank robbery. I'm sure my neighbors heard my terrible falcon call.
Arriving at the scene, I became a mouse. "squeek squeek". Of course, robbers in the vault. Now is my chance to strike. "BOOM POW KSHHH". Haha! These fools don't stand a chance against the might of a .50 cal rifle!
I pulled my trigger, only to find them gone. Damn! My imitation must have got them running!
Out on the streets, the sound of burning rubber caught my attention. They want a chase, eh? Let's see them outrun a helicopter! "Fupfupfupfupfupfup".
Target acquired! Now, to finish this... Cargobob mode! "Fupfupfup with a hook". **THUNK**. Good, snatched! To the impound lot we go.
*****
*Loved the prompt. Constructive criticism appreciated. Should I write another adventure of Sound Man?* | So there I was, wolfing down my cereal and orange juice, desperately trying not to stain my suit while at the same time trying to hurry up so that I wouldn't be late for my job. At my business, being late to a PR meeting was the equivalent of quitting the company outright. The boss was not the kind of person who tolerated tardiness.
So naturally, I was horrified when I suddenly learned that my carpool guy had suddenly gotten the flu via text.
"*AW COME ON!*" I roared up at the sky at the news, "NOT TODAY! *NOT TODAYYYYY!*"
My gaze whirled around. My car was in the shop, and all I had besides that was a bicycle. The bicycle was worthless in the middle of the city. It'd be stupid to use it. A thousand thoughts entered my mind all at once. What could I do? I was gonna be late! I *couldn't* be late! I... I... And then it crossed my mind: I could use my power! Without a moment's hesitation, I loudly - and really, reeeeeeally badly - imitated... well... meowing.
"MEEEEEOWRR! MEOWWWWWR! MEOWWWRRRRRR!"
And then, I felt it: the epic running capabilities of the Cheetah. I took a deep breath, grabbed my suitcase, and sped off to work like a greased bolt of lightning.
...And I still didn't make it in time, and I got fired.
And then, in my frustration, I badly imitated the hissing of a spitting cobra and proceeded to ruin his expensive suit.
And then he sued me. | |
Inspiration: George C. | [Wp] Exactly 2 minutes before anyone dies, they get to talk to Death about anything.And if the talk was a quality time,Death will do one small favor for you. | Gregory found himself looking down at a portly, chipper man. Round spectacles, balding head, cheery smile, tweed coat. Imagine an accountant or jovial bank manager. Except for, of course, the purplish-black mist that emanated from him, slowly enclosing Gregory and obscuring the dreary hospital room.
"So, you're him, then?"
The little man beamed and suppressed a chuckle, "Oh, yes! That's me! Grim reaper, angel of death, and all that. Suppose you pictured a more menacing character?"
"Well... Yes."
Death flashed a big grin as he fished in his pocket, removing a silver pocket watch and scrutinizing the time.
"Now in just one moment, I'll start counting down your two minutes..."
"Two minutes? Is that another two minutes here on earth? That's wonderful! I can probably make it to the waiting room in about a minute..."
Death frowned and met Gregory's eye with a slight shake of his head, "Sorry young man, but no. Your two minutes are with me. You can ask me whatever questions you have, and after that, I'll be helping you on along."
"So where-"
"Not that. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what comes next. Anything else, though. And... go."
For a few seconds, Gregory was at a loss. The rhythmic ticking of Death's pocket watch swelled and thundered in his ears.
"Why do you do it? Why do you come for us?"
Death paused, his lips tightened and he raised an eyebrow.
"What I mean to ask is... Is it your duty? Your grim purpose? Or, is it something you enjoy?"
*Tick, tick, tick, tick*....
"Well, I suppose you could call it my destiny. It's the very reason I exist, but it's more than that."
He sat down on Gregory's bed, folding his hands and looking up at the ceiling tiles.
"I can do it however I like, you know. Big hooded robe, scythe, roaring flames, glowing eyes and the stench of rot... It's an option. In my younger days, I actually went that way a time or two... Not something I'm terribly proud of."
He fidgeted with his watch for a moment, closed it and turned to face Gregory. A pained, desperate expression in his eyes.
"I didn't make this decision, you know. When and how you die," he lifted up his hands helplessly and half-shrugged, "It isn’t up to me. But I do try my best to… To make it easier."
*Tick, tick, tick, tick*...
“Gregory, I can’t remember that last time anyone asked me about myself. Is there anything…”
“Do I have to go right this moment?”
Gregory didn’t need to be told that he was far beyond earth. The hospital room was gone, replaced by an inky black void, strangely comforting and womblike.
“I know that I can’t go back, but there’s someone I’d like to see again. At least once more. Let me stay here, wherever this is. When her time comes… Let us take the next step hand in hand.”
They looked at one another for the space of a heartbeat. Gregory’s face both pleading and resigned, Death’s eyes conflicted.
“You’re young. How long do you think you’ll be waiting?”
“As long as I have to.”
They shook hands, and Death surprised Gregory by embracing him before turning away and disappearing into the black.
And Gregory waited. | "Hey, Siri. Set a timer for 20 minutes."
"OK, 2 minutes and counting."
"2 minutes? But I sa...oh...", I knew the time had come. Death could approach you in unimaginable ways. Sometimes it would come straight up to you and talk directly. And sometimes, well...it would play tricks on you.
"Oh, come on. You can talk to me about anything.", Death said in Siri's voice.
"Great! Why did you choose Siri, for fuck's sake? Couldn't you find something more creative?"
"It's an iOS beta thing. Apple has patented this technology that enables Siri to talk as Death to you.", Death said.
"First they remove the headphone jack, and now this. And...the voice. Sorry to say this, Death, but it *sucks*."
"I know right? It's expected to be fixed in a future software update, but right now I have to endure the hardship of speaking in this voice.", Death said.
"Um...", Death continued, "time is up. It's not exactly the best conversation I've had, but it's still better than the average. Do you want me to do you a favor?"
"Just make sure to take the cake out of the oven after 18 minutes." |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | Light blinded my eyes, but did not blind the memories of my short and unpredictable life.
As quickly as it began, I regained my sight and presence. I knew where I was, my recent memories now like a dream.
I walked over to the console and typed in the code.
"Rank 42 of 298,475. Grade A+. Play again?" The New Zealand accent spoke.
No. not another replay. I've spent too many years struggling for the top 3 ranks.
"Hey Cain! How'd you do?"
It was my gaming partner Abe. He held the first rank for this character.
"Forty-two. Age 31. The crash on the ninety got me. I thought buying a Hummer was gonna be good enough, forgot my damn seatbelt."
Abe smirked.
"Yah man. Stop focusing on how to prevent those things. Just live. If you never enjoy the ride, you won't have a reason to remember those things. You dig?"
Oh, I dig alright.
"Maybe it's time you try out an easier character. You know that one is hardest, man. Here, try this one out. Guaranteed that you will make it to age 50 at least. I'll also throw in a cheat code, let's you avoid any danger and do as you please. Just have fun!"
Fair enough.
I glanced at the character profile. Easy life, no major accidents, no incarceration. Ah, yes. This one WAS an easy one.
I typed in the code.
"Begin game. Hillary Rodham Clinton. Cheat mode engaged. Unlimited money engaged."
Before I was sent to the game I had one final thought.
It would be fun to be president.
| The two men were bent over, boisterously laughing.
"So, you met Karen too-- but you shit yourself at the altar, and she left you?!"
"Yeah!" he said, howling.
"But then-- you found that coke-rock in the bathroom of the 7-11 and made your way to becoming top kingpin?"
"I know, Life's funny that way" said 10/10-me.
In all my life, I never thought that simply taking advantage of powerful energies in Life (the energy of addiction) could get you so far in Death too. All my life, I've been taught that a moral-road to power is the only honorable path. But this guy -- me, after all -- utilized his exquisite knowledge of the addicted-soul to rise to the top -- and God the Panacea scored him the highest of High Ones.
"So, wait: uhh-I-- well, tell me some stories! Tell me somethin' funny that happened when you had your grip all over the Canadian government?" I asked.
"Oh!" he waved his hand up, as if to de-signify the intensity of his time serving in public service, "There was this time, where the legislature wouldn't pass a bill that would increase police presence in the Burwood community-- a neighborhood notoriously known all over for its drug trafficking activity. Now, I… was in charge of the rival gang's coke-business," he chuckled for a beat, "So I wanted these guys to get pushed real hard. But nobody in the House of Commons knew that. Someone said I should include a provision that allowed for greater transparency in the police force, in general. But then, the fact that they protect my business in Redwood county would be so obvious. So I said, 'We don't have enough money to do that. Our budget is stretched thin enough fighting crime in the Burwood'".
"So anyway, later on that night, I was smokin' the rock with some homeboys. They were in my gang. Since all my higher-ups know what's going on in those sessions, you know, my money-man said to me, 'You know, yo' name Ford, but you might as well be Tom Ford, cuz' everyone wearin' yo' bullshit all over they shoes!'"
Him and I busted up laughing, knowing our lives had now come full-circle. I shook his hand gratefully. "Mr. Ford," I said with a slight nod.
"Mr. Ford." A wry smile greeted him back... | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Bozo the Clown, let me have the honour of shaking hands with you!
[Honk honk!]
"Man. Listening to your achievements, no wonder you got the highest score in heaven! Bet no one can top that!"
"..."
"Actually...
(Removes the big, red clown nose)
...technically I am the highest scorer... but...there is... someone else with a higher score than me, but he isn't in heaven"
"Wow! Did NOT expect that! Is he in hell?"
"No, not hell. But Valhalla."
"Valhalla?! Whoa! What is his name? What did he do to gain such a high score??"
"His name is Ted. He is an accountant".
| The two men were bent over, boisterously laughing.
"So, you met Karen too-- but you shit yourself at the altar, and she left you?!"
"Yeah!" he said, howling.
"But then-- you found that coke-rock in the bathroom of the 7-11 and made your way to becoming top kingpin?"
"I know, Life's funny that way" said 10/10-me.
In all my life, I never thought that simply taking advantage of powerful energies in Life (the energy of addiction) could get you so far in Death too. All my life, I've been taught that a moral-road to power is the only honorable path. But this guy -- me, after all -- utilized his exquisite knowledge of the addicted-soul to rise to the top -- and God the Panacea scored him the highest of High Ones.
"So, wait: uhh-I-- well, tell me some stories! Tell me somethin' funny that happened when you had your grip all over the Canadian government?" I asked.
"Oh!" he waved his hand up, as if to de-signify the intensity of his time serving in public service, "There was this time, where the legislature wouldn't pass a bill that would increase police presence in the Burwood community-- a neighborhood notoriously known all over for its drug trafficking activity. Now, I… was in charge of the rival gang's coke-business," he chuckled for a beat, "So I wanted these guys to get pushed real hard. But nobody in the House of Commons knew that. Someone said I should include a provision that allowed for greater transparency in the police force, in general. But then, the fact that they protect my business in Redwood county would be so obvious. So I said, 'We don't have enough money to do that. Our budget is stretched thin enough fighting crime in the Burwood'".
"So anyway, later on that night, I was smokin' the rock with some homeboys. They were in my gang. Since all my higher-ups know what's going on in those sessions, you know, my money-man said to me, 'You know, yo' name Ford, but you might as well be Tom Ford, cuz' everyone wearin' yo' bullshit all over they shoes!'"
Him and I busted up laughing, knowing our lives had now come full-circle. I shook his hand gratefully. "Mr. Ford," I said with a slight nod.
"Mr. Ford." A wry smile greeted him back... | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Just fucking get in the car!" I shouted to the man as he ran from the bank, alarm screaming and watchers aghast.
The sirens were drawing closer as portly man struggled with the door handle as a police car skidded around the corner.
"Fucking hell Harry! How can you fuck this up so badly!" I shouted as Harry lumped himself down next to me and I put my foot down, but it was too late.
The gunshots were as clear as say over the screaming sirens and bells but I was too full of adrenaline to notice as the car jumped into life and I rammed it across the front of the police car.
I felt suddenly weak, as I carried on driving I could hear Harry, as if a faint voice in the distance and light patting on my chest. "Fucking hell Max, you're hit." before everything went dark.
#GAME OVER
The VR suite lifted away from my body and I adjusted to the sounds of a crowd applauding. I was back at the Arcadia event, my eyes came back into focus as I climbed out of the machine and turned to see a crowd looking at me all cheering, some of them clapping.
Confused and slightly dazed as I readjusted to reality, I turned to face the screen. Fond memories became highlight pictures and the last one was of Harry shaking my dead body as the police swarmed the car and took him away.
I could feel something grab my hand and pull it away. I turned to look at him. "Second place man, if you had just opted to take Steve you might have made it."
I could barely hear my own voice past the thumping in my head as I just sort of responded. "Yeah, but Steve would steal the money from me in the long run so it makes more sense to choose Harry."
"Give it up to our second place contestant."
As I mingled in the crowd I got a chance to see some other players.
"I can't believe you banged Mindy" One of them said with a glimour in his eye, "How did you do it, she is set to be repulsed by your character as default. "It's just RNG manipulation, when you first meet her, if you avoid looking directly at her, her initial profiling roll doesn't factor everything into account but I made sure to wear a mask that she liked, so her initial RNG roll was based on my personality and build and not my face."
"That's why you went to the halloween party with the cute pink mask."
"Yeah, it seems girly at first but as long as you don't take the mask off, you can go all the way."
"...and now! Vying for first place! George Maxwell!"
The nerdy kid approached the stage and stood next to the commentator.
"You have 123,323,134,131 to beat, how are you going to do it?"
The nerdy kid was a speed runner and had been helping out on the forums I frequented, he was chatting with me about a new strategy to get the high score but now was the chance to see if he could do it.
"My new strategy involves pumping all of my points into luck and using the bolster to create favorable outcomes to most RNG events."
"But that's suicide, you need at least 3 points in strength to avoid being still born." I said to person next to me as he climbed into the machine. "His face is going to be horrific, no points in natural beauty."
Sure enough, he allocated his points and they were all in luck.
Then the game was on. The accelerated time mechanic zoomed through the life of the character but I caught all of the details.
In the womb, he wriggled repetitively to raise his strength stat to 3, once he was out, he got the healthy baby accolade, which prevents later brain damage. As the school years raced by, he used the luck stat to influence the bully modifier and prevented all forms of bullying, but increased the social mechanic so people would like him.
He got laid in college to his girlfriend Mindy, because at the start of the game, he managed to use his luck to fall on his face, whilst the damage made his beauty points go down, it tripped out the lower tolerances allowing him to under-flow Mindy's base level of 0 attraction to his face, effectively maxing out her attraction to him and because Mindy is always programmed to have a personality to match the main character, because she is supposed to be an unattainable love interest he managed to glitch the system.
The game raced on and he flunked out of college, moved to a trailer park, got Mindy pregnant, but then the death of Mindy came, the bit that crushes all the gamers who try to get with Mindy. The game is programmed to get a death at a certain point involving Mindy, but the crowd erupted as this guy glitched his way through it! Mindy fell, as she had done so many runs, down the stairs, the game is programmed to break a neck during the fall but she just broke the unborn child's neck because the game was designed so that Mindy shouldn't be able to get pregnant, so the game thinks it has killed Mindy but actually Mindy is still alive.
So it came as no surprise that Mindy ended up being the heist partner, which is fucking unheard of because she should be dead by now, it had the crowd cheering, as the police rolled up to shoot him dead, which is the scripted end of the game but because Mindy was unkillable, he used her as a human shield and got away with the money. Of course, Mindy wouldn't betray him, her affinity stats were too high, so he actually got past the scripted end game.
The years rolled on, Mindy got pregnant again, had a kid, they spent the money on themselves and he died and old man with Mindy never aging because the game thought she was dead and removed some of the parameters for her.
As the guy got out of the machine, the guy was cheered so hard. It looked so easy. As he got out of the machine, I could see he was still adjusting.
232,123,213,134,123 points, a new world record.
The kid looked at his score as the commentator asked him, questions and shook his hand.
I got to the green room with him and finally got to ask some questions.
"Mindy man, you completely threw everybody through a loop, how did you do that?"
"It wasn't underflow." The kid said..
"What!?" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
"The game is designed to have negative numbers, Mindy just digs ugly guys, that is why she get's with brad."
Everything made sense to me now, all the times she goes off with weird looking guys just to fuck with me, she was attracted to objectively hideous guys.
"So any points..."
"...yeah, by pumping all the points into luck, you evade the auto points being placed anywhere else, because luck only modifies the luck stat at base selection."
So that's why, Luck is a unique stat, it doesn't govern anything else.
But Mindy's death?
"She is always going to fall down the stairs and break her neck, but if she is pregnant, her body type changes enough for her rag-doll model to avoid its neck when it falls by being front heavy, so it lands face down."
That's so devious..
"Once Mindy survives, the game is programmed to kill her off anyway, so I use the Luck stat to evade the event by triggering the miscarriage cut-scene, which is normally for Stacy but can be applied to third parties. People can't have their stats changed..."
"...during a cutscene."
This guy was good.
"What about the bank robbery, you were using Mindy as a human shield."
"Oh, that strategy works with anybody."
"What?"
"Bullets are programmed to miss your partner, so by hiding behind them and holding them close, you become invincible, sure your arms get shot to hell, so they technically hit you, but the bullets won't go through you."
Damn... I thought as I loaded the game up again.
I'm going to be and ugly retard.
ALL THE POINTS IN LUCK HEEEERRRRRRRRRRDEEEERRRRRRRRRR! | The two men were bent over, boisterously laughing.
"So, you met Karen too-- but you shit yourself at the altar, and she left you?!"
"Yeah!" he said, howling.
"But then-- you found that coke-rock in the bathroom of the 7-11 and made your way to becoming top kingpin?"
"I know, Life's funny that way" said 10/10-me.
In all my life, I never thought that simply taking advantage of powerful energies in Life (the energy of addiction) could get you so far in Death too. All my life, I've been taught that a moral-road to power is the only honorable path. But this guy -- me, after all -- utilized his exquisite knowledge of the addicted-soul to rise to the top -- and God the Panacea scored him the highest of High Ones.
"So, wait: uhh-I-- well, tell me some stories! Tell me somethin' funny that happened when you had your grip all over the Canadian government?" I asked.
"Oh!" he waved his hand up, as if to de-signify the intensity of his time serving in public service, "There was this time, where the legislature wouldn't pass a bill that would increase police presence in the Burwood community-- a neighborhood notoriously known all over for its drug trafficking activity. Now, I… was in charge of the rival gang's coke-business," he chuckled for a beat, "So I wanted these guys to get pushed real hard. But nobody in the House of Commons knew that. Someone said I should include a provision that allowed for greater transparency in the police force, in general. But then, the fact that they protect my business in Redwood county would be so obvious. So I said, 'We don't have enough money to do that. Our budget is stretched thin enough fighting crime in the Burwood'".
"So anyway, later on that night, I was smokin' the rock with some homeboys. They were in my gang. Since all my higher-ups know what's going on in those sessions, you know, my money-man said to me, 'You know, yo' name Ford, but you might as well be Tom Ford, cuz' everyone wearin' yo' bullshit all over they shoes!'"
Him and I busted up laughing, knowing our lives had now come full-circle. I shook his hand gratefully. "Mr. Ford," I said with a slight nod.
"Mr. Ford." A wry smile greeted him back... | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | Light blinded my eyes, but did not blind the memories of my short and unpredictable life.
As quickly as it began, I regained my sight and presence. I knew where I was, my recent memories now like a dream.
I walked over to the console and typed in the code.
"Rank 42 of 298,475. Grade A+. Play again?" The New Zealand accent spoke.
No. not another replay. I've spent too many years struggling for the top 3 ranks.
"Hey Cain! How'd you do?"
It was my gaming partner Abe. He held the first rank for this character.
"Forty-two. Age 31. The crash on the ninety got me. I thought buying a Hummer was gonna be good enough, forgot my damn seatbelt."
Abe smirked.
"Yah man. Stop focusing on how to prevent those things. Just live. If you never enjoy the ride, you won't have a reason to remember those things. You dig?"
Oh, I dig alright.
"Maybe it's time you try out an easier character. You know that one is hardest, man. Here, try this one out. Guaranteed that you will make it to age 50 at least. I'll also throw in a cheat code, let's you avoid any danger and do as you please. Just have fun!"
Fair enough.
I glanced at the character profile. Easy life, no major accidents, no incarceration. Ah, yes. This one WAS an easy one.
I typed in the code.
"Begin game. Hillary Rodham Clinton. Cheat mode engaged. Unlimited money engaged."
Before I was sent to the game I had one final thought.
It would be fun to be president.
| Death embraced me, and the world, stuttering and flickering, faded.
I awoke in a neon-lit room. A terrible rap tribute about the band Styx played. Cigarette smoke and mysterious other odours permeated the hot air. The sounds of machines beeping were all around, and I saw my machine.
Two buttons. A joystick.
A cabinet holding a screen.
> OneUp Charon Technologies: /u/Scherazade. Insert (1) credit to play.
On the top was a image of me, covered in blood, a childhood bully decapitated on the ground nearby, lines of tears streaming down my cheeks.
*Pretty metal,* I thought, not feeling especially surprised.
tobecontinued.
| |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Bozo the Clown, let me have the honour of shaking hands with you!
[Honk honk!]
"Man. Listening to your achievements, no wonder you got the highest score in heaven! Bet no one can top that!"
"..."
"Actually...
(Removes the big, red clown nose)
...technically I am the highest scorer... but...there is... someone else with a higher score than me, but he isn't in heaven"
"Wow! Did NOT expect that! Is he in hell?"
"No, not hell. But Valhalla."
"Valhalla?! Whoa! What is his name? What did he do to gain such a high score??"
"His name is Ted. He is an accountant".
| Death embraced me, and the world, stuttering and flickering, faded.
I awoke in a neon-lit room. A terrible rap tribute about the band Styx played. Cigarette smoke and mysterious other odours permeated the hot air. The sounds of machines beeping were all around, and I saw my machine.
Two buttons. A joystick.
A cabinet holding a screen.
> OneUp Charon Technologies: /u/Scherazade. Insert (1) credit to play.
On the top was a image of me, covered in blood, a childhood bully decapitated on the ground nearby, lines of tears streaming down my cheeks.
*Pretty metal,* I thought, not feeling especially surprised.
tobecontinued.
| |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Just fucking get in the car!" I shouted to the man as he ran from the bank, alarm screaming and watchers aghast.
The sirens were drawing closer as portly man struggled with the door handle as a police car skidded around the corner.
"Fucking hell Harry! How can you fuck this up so badly!" I shouted as Harry lumped himself down next to me and I put my foot down, but it was too late.
The gunshots were as clear as say over the screaming sirens and bells but I was too full of adrenaline to notice as the car jumped into life and I rammed it across the front of the police car.
I felt suddenly weak, as I carried on driving I could hear Harry, as if a faint voice in the distance and light patting on my chest. "Fucking hell Max, you're hit." before everything went dark.
#GAME OVER
The VR suite lifted away from my body and I adjusted to the sounds of a crowd applauding. I was back at the Arcadia event, my eyes came back into focus as I climbed out of the machine and turned to see a crowd looking at me all cheering, some of them clapping.
Confused and slightly dazed as I readjusted to reality, I turned to face the screen. Fond memories became highlight pictures and the last one was of Harry shaking my dead body as the police swarmed the car and took him away.
I could feel something grab my hand and pull it away. I turned to look at him. "Second place man, if you had just opted to take Steve you might have made it."
I could barely hear my own voice past the thumping in my head as I just sort of responded. "Yeah, but Steve would steal the money from me in the long run so it makes more sense to choose Harry."
"Give it up to our second place contestant."
As I mingled in the crowd I got a chance to see some other players.
"I can't believe you banged Mindy" One of them said with a glimour in his eye, "How did you do it, she is set to be repulsed by your character as default. "It's just RNG manipulation, when you first meet her, if you avoid looking directly at her, her initial profiling roll doesn't factor everything into account but I made sure to wear a mask that she liked, so her initial RNG roll was based on my personality and build and not my face."
"That's why you went to the halloween party with the cute pink mask."
"Yeah, it seems girly at first but as long as you don't take the mask off, you can go all the way."
"...and now! Vying for first place! George Maxwell!"
The nerdy kid approached the stage and stood next to the commentator.
"You have 123,323,134,131 to beat, how are you going to do it?"
The nerdy kid was a speed runner and had been helping out on the forums I frequented, he was chatting with me about a new strategy to get the high score but now was the chance to see if he could do it.
"My new strategy involves pumping all of my points into luck and using the bolster to create favorable outcomes to most RNG events."
"But that's suicide, you need at least 3 points in strength to avoid being still born." I said to person next to me as he climbed into the machine. "His face is going to be horrific, no points in natural beauty."
Sure enough, he allocated his points and they were all in luck.
Then the game was on. The accelerated time mechanic zoomed through the life of the character but I caught all of the details.
In the womb, he wriggled repetitively to raise his strength stat to 3, once he was out, he got the healthy baby accolade, which prevents later brain damage. As the school years raced by, he used the luck stat to influence the bully modifier and prevented all forms of bullying, but increased the social mechanic so people would like him.
He got laid in college to his girlfriend Mindy, because at the start of the game, he managed to use his luck to fall on his face, whilst the damage made his beauty points go down, it tripped out the lower tolerances allowing him to under-flow Mindy's base level of 0 attraction to his face, effectively maxing out her attraction to him and because Mindy is always programmed to have a personality to match the main character, because she is supposed to be an unattainable love interest he managed to glitch the system.
The game raced on and he flunked out of college, moved to a trailer park, got Mindy pregnant, but then the death of Mindy came, the bit that crushes all the gamers who try to get with Mindy. The game is programmed to get a death at a certain point involving Mindy, but the crowd erupted as this guy glitched his way through it! Mindy fell, as she had done so many runs, down the stairs, the game is programmed to break a neck during the fall but she just broke the unborn child's neck because the game was designed so that Mindy shouldn't be able to get pregnant, so the game thinks it has killed Mindy but actually Mindy is still alive.
So it came as no surprise that Mindy ended up being the heist partner, which is fucking unheard of because she should be dead by now, it had the crowd cheering, as the police rolled up to shoot him dead, which is the scripted end of the game but because Mindy was unkillable, he used her as a human shield and got away with the money. Of course, Mindy wouldn't betray him, her affinity stats were too high, so he actually got past the scripted end game.
The years rolled on, Mindy got pregnant again, had a kid, they spent the money on themselves and he died and old man with Mindy never aging because the game thought she was dead and removed some of the parameters for her.
As the guy got out of the machine, the guy was cheered so hard. It looked so easy. As he got out of the machine, I could see he was still adjusting.
232,123,213,134,123 points, a new world record.
The kid looked at his score as the commentator asked him, questions and shook his hand.
I got to the green room with him and finally got to ask some questions.
"Mindy man, you completely threw everybody through a loop, how did you do that?"
"It wasn't underflow." The kid said..
"What!?" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
"The game is designed to have negative numbers, Mindy just digs ugly guys, that is why she get's with brad."
Everything made sense to me now, all the times she goes off with weird looking guys just to fuck with me, she was attracted to objectively hideous guys.
"So any points..."
"...yeah, by pumping all the points into luck, you evade the auto points being placed anywhere else, because luck only modifies the luck stat at base selection."
So that's why, Luck is a unique stat, it doesn't govern anything else.
But Mindy's death?
"She is always going to fall down the stairs and break her neck, but if she is pregnant, her body type changes enough for her rag-doll model to avoid its neck when it falls by being front heavy, so it lands face down."
That's so devious..
"Once Mindy survives, the game is programmed to kill her off anyway, so I use the Luck stat to evade the event by triggering the miscarriage cut-scene, which is normally for Stacy but can be applied to third parties. People can't have their stats changed..."
"...during a cutscene."
This guy was good.
"What about the bank robbery, you were using Mindy as a human shield."
"Oh, that strategy works with anybody."
"What?"
"Bullets are programmed to miss your partner, so by hiding behind them and holding them close, you become invincible, sure your arms get shot to hell, so they technically hit you, but the bullets won't go through you."
Damn... I thought as I loaded the game up again.
I'm going to be and ugly retard.
ALL THE POINTS IN LUCK HEEEERRRRRRRRRRDEEEERRRRRRRRRR! | Death embraced me, and the world, stuttering and flickering, faded.
I awoke in a neon-lit room. A terrible rap tribute about the band Styx played. Cigarette smoke and mysterious other odours permeated the hot air. The sounds of machines beeping were all around, and I saw my machine.
Two buttons. A joystick.
A cabinet holding a screen.
> OneUp Charon Technologies: /u/Scherazade. Insert (1) credit to play.
On the top was a image of me, covered in blood, a childhood bully decapitated on the ground nearby, lines of tears streaming down my cheeks.
*Pretty metal,* I thought, not feeling especially surprised.
tobecontinued.
| |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Just fucking get in the car!" I shouted to the man as he ran from the bank, alarm screaming and watchers aghast.
The sirens were drawing closer as portly man struggled with the door handle as a police car skidded around the corner.
"Fucking hell Harry! How can you fuck this up so badly!" I shouted as Harry lumped himself down next to me and I put my foot down, but it was too late.
The gunshots were as clear as say over the screaming sirens and bells but I was too full of adrenaline to notice as the car jumped into life and I rammed it across the front of the police car.
I felt suddenly weak, as I carried on driving I could hear Harry, as if a faint voice in the distance and light patting on my chest. "Fucking hell Max, you're hit." before everything went dark.
#GAME OVER
The VR suite lifted away from my body and I adjusted to the sounds of a crowd applauding. I was back at the Arcadia event, my eyes came back into focus as I climbed out of the machine and turned to see a crowd looking at me all cheering, some of them clapping.
Confused and slightly dazed as I readjusted to reality, I turned to face the screen. Fond memories became highlight pictures and the last one was of Harry shaking my dead body as the police swarmed the car and took him away.
I could feel something grab my hand and pull it away. I turned to look at him. "Second place man, if you had just opted to take Steve you might have made it."
I could barely hear my own voice past the thumping in my head as I just sort of responded. "Yeah, but Steve would steal the money from me in the long run so it makes more sense to choose Harry."
"Give it up to our second place contestant."
As I mingled in the crowd I got a chance to see some other players.
"I can't believe you banged Mindy" One of them said with a glimour in his eye, "How did you do it, she is set to be repulsed by your character as default. "It's just RNG manipulation, when you first meet her, if you avoid looking directly at her, her initial profiling roll doesn't factor everything into account but I made sure to wear a mask that she liked, so her initial RNG roll was based on my personality and build and not my face."
"That's why you went to the halloween party with the cute pink mask."
"Yeah, it seems girly at first but as long as you don't take the mask off, you can go all the way."
"...and now! Vying for first place! George Maxwell!"
The nerdy kid approached the stage and stood next to the commentator.
"You have 123,323,134,131 to beat, how are you going to do it?"
The nerdy kid was a speed runner and had been helping out on the forums I frequented, he was chatting with me about a new strategy to get the high score but now was the chance to see if he could do it.
"My new strategy involves pumping all of my points into luck and using the bolster to create favorable outcomes to most RNG events."
"But that's suicide, you need at least 3 points in strength to avoid being still born." I said to person next to me as he climbed into the machine. "His face is going to be horrific, no points in natural beauty."
Sure enough, he allocated his points and they were all in luck.
Then the game was on. The accelerated time mechanic zoomed through the life of the character but I caught all of the details.
In the womb, he wriggled repetitively to raise his strength stat to 3, once he was out, he got the healthy baby accolade, which prevents later brain damage. As the school years raced by, he used the luck stat to influence the bully modifier and prevented all forms of bullying, but increased the social mechanic so people would like him.
He got laid in college to his girlfriend Mindy, because at the start of the game, he managed to use his luck to fall on his face, whilst the damage made his beauty points go down, it tripped out the lower tolerances allowing him to under-flow Mindy's base level of 0 attraction to his face, effectively maxing out her attraction to him and because Mindy is always programmed to have a personality to match the main character, because she is supposed to be an unattainable love interest he managed to glitch the system.
The game raced on and he flunked out of college, moved to a trailer park, got Mindy pregnant, but then the death of Mindy came, the bit that crushes all the gamers who try to get with Mindy. The game is programmed to get a death at a certain point involving Mindy, but the crowd erupted as this guy glitched his way through it! Mindy fell, as she had done so many runs, down the stairs, the game is programmed to break a neck during the fall but she just broke the unborn child's neck because the game was designed so that Mindy shouldn't be able to get pregnant, so the game thinks it has killed Mindy but actually Mindy is still alive.
So it came as no surprise that Mindy ended up being the heist partner, which is fucking unheard of because she should be dead by now, it had the crowd cheering, as the police rolled up to shoot him dead, which is the scripted end of the game but because Mindy was unkillable, he used her as a human shield and got away with the money. Of course, Mindy wouldn't betray him, her affinity stats were too high, so he actually got past the scripted end game.
The years rolled on, Mindy got pregnant again, had a kid, they spent the money on themselves and he died and old man with Mindy never aging because the game thought she was dead and removed some of the parameters for her.
As the guy got out of the machine, the guy was cheered so hard. It looked so easy. As he got out of the machine, I could see he was still adjusting.
232,123,213,134,123 points, a new world record.
The kid looked at his score as the commentator asked him, questions and shook his hand.
I got to the green room with him and finally got to ask some questions.
"Mindy man, you completely threw everybody through a loop, how did you do that?"
"It wasn't underflow." The kid said..
"What!?" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
"The game is designed to have negative numbers, Mindy just digs ugly guys, that is why she get's with brad."
Everything made sense to me now, all the times she goes off with weird looking guys just to fuck with me, she was attracted to objectively hideous guys.
"So any points..."
"...yeah, by pumping all the points into luck, you evade the auto points being placed anywhere else, because luck only modifies the luck stat at base selection."
So that's why, Luck is a unique stat, it doesn't govern anything else.
But Mindy's death?
"She is always going to fall down the stairs and break her neck, but if she is pregnant, her body type changes enough for her rag-doll model to avoid its neck when it falls by being front heavy, so it lands face down."
That's so devious..
"Once Mindy survives, the game is programmed to kill her off anyway, so I use the Luck stat to evade the event by triggering the miscarriage cut-scene, which is normally for Stacy but can be applied to third parties. People can't have their stats changed..."
"...during a cutscene."
This guy was good.
"What about the bank robbery, you were using Mindy as a human shield."
"Oh, that strategy works with anybody."
"What?"
"Bullets are programmed to miss your partner, so by hiding behind them and holding them close, you become invincible, sure your arms get shot to hell, so they technically hit you, but the bullets won't go through you."
Damn... I thought as I loaded the game up again.
I'm going to be and ugly retard.
ALL THE POINTS IN LUCK HEEEERRRRRRRRRRDEEEERRRRRRRRRR! | Dark room, quiet shadows, going through motions. I remember my life, remember what it looked like as all my memories flashed before my eyes in a bright moment of vivid color, and then it dawns on me. It wasn't my life. I remember it was a game, I remember I had been in the afterlife for years, and I remember that this was an event to remind everyone of life so no one goes crazy. They happen once a year. I look at my watch and tap a couple times to see my score: 96%. I smile and then bounce between conversations, talking about scores until I trip over my shoe lace. I turn over and look up to see another pitch black angel looking down at me. Slightly dazed, I look back and ask, "Score?" I hear a high, childlike laugh, and then wake up in an alleyway. I brush myself off and scamper away, hoping not to see the Seniors that beat me up. That won't be a dream I forget in a hurry. | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | When I woke up, I was encased in dirt, I knew that, somehow, but I couldn’t feel it. Regaining use of my limbs was a long and arduous process.
It was rather difficult, but I managed to claw my way out to the surface. Rising from the dirt, I stared at my hands. That was when I knew; I was dead.
My hands were just spindly bones connected to one another. I looked myself over and I no longer had flesh. I glanced at the sky, a collage of grey and crimson red.
For some reason, I didn’t feel particularly surprised by this revelation. I shrugged it off, and tried to figure out where exactly I was. The hill I stood on overlooked a large and sprawling metropolis.
A mess of skyscrapers and apartment complexes. It was my best bet, so I descended to hill to find someone to talk to.
During my descent, I tried to figure out how I had died. Was it old age? Was I murdered? I just remember... a pen. A pen? That was it? That’s the only clue I had? Miserable.
Reaching the edge of the city, I found that the streets were bustling with all manner of beings.
Skeletons like me, humans, ogres, orcs, suits of armour, ghosts, angels, even chimeras. Everything was walking (or floating) about as if it was the most normal thing to do!
Interestingly, everyone was dressed. Suits, dresses, blouses, pants, jeans, skirts... so on. Feeling oddly immodest all of a sudden, i ducked into an unassuming alleyway only to be greeted by a ghoulish being.
He grinned at me, the lower half of his jaw hanging off of his face like a melting piece of ice cream. His teeth had maggots crawling between them and they were rotted beyond salvation.
"What’ve we got ‘ere, then? A new ‘un?" He struggled to say. "Hehe. Right out of the womb eh?"
It had been so long, and I struggled to speak because... well I had no vocal cords anymore, how was I supposed to -
"What do I - where do... where am... wh-" I somehow said.
"Relax, ya fool. Can’t’cha see that buildin’; down the road? ‘Un that says ‘Allocation office’."
I managed a slight nod.
"Best get yer tail over there, then." He returned to clawing the floor, the sound sending shivers down my spine. It was all extremely surreal.
I walked down the street and I could feel everyone staring straight through me - literally.
Finally I reached the allocation office. It was a magnificent sky scraper, so tall that it pierced the dull sky. The interior was even more opulent than its exterior.
Golden chandeliers and diamond encrusted desks, silver skulls that adorned every railing and table. Large, sprawling carpets of varying, intricate design. Grand portraits of various dead entities.
The only other being in the room was a woman behind the largest desk on the level. She smiled at me and gave a slight wave, the eyes behind her half rimmed glasses rolling in their sockets.
First thing that came to my head. ‘Fake librarian.’
I strode over to her. She was looking me over, shaking her head.
"Just died, huh?" She asked, condescension hidng within her sweet, cool voice.
"Yeah." I replied sheepishly.
"Right. Just hold on for a moment. I’m sure I’ll have your file in this pile of new deaths."
"Will that tell me how I died?"
She laughed.
"Why are you worrying about that when you don’t even know what you’re going to do now?"
She said, then looked down at her desk. I could hear the furious work of fingers sifting through stacks of paper. It was a familiar sound.
"So... can you tell me what I’m to expect, at least?"
She looked at me, slightly bewildered at the question, then muttered something like "oh right, he’s just a skeleton."
"WELL..." She started, grimacing in thought, "Well. So you’ve died right? Ironically, that’s not it. That life was like a test. You’ve got a rating, see? Like how well you did. And based on that you get another life here, in the afterlife. Quite apt now, isn’t it? That term. ‘Afterlife’. It’s weird to live it, honestly. Like, I… think that when I was alive I was religious, probably. I think I believed in heaven and hell – but hey, that’s life right? Always trying to prove you wrong.”
“Right… So how do I tell my rating?”
I heard her scoff.
“Dear… just look at the two of us. I’ve got flesh – you’ve got nothing.”
I didn’t reply, and left her to look through her files in silence.
“I’ve found your file. Your new name is ‘Randall. You’ve got three choices. A mailman, a sandwich boy, or a beggar. Those are the jobs available to you.” She said, breaking the silence, looking at a piece of paper in front of her.
“That’s it?” I asked, disappointed.
“Yes. That’s it. Well, you don’t have to answer me right now. I’ll give you a week, although honestly your choices aren’t very enticing anyway. Here.” She tossed me a keycard. “That’s for your apartment. Don’t lose it, it’s 50 DD. Oh, that’s our currency. I don’t know what it stands for. I’ve arranged for an appropriate taxi to bring you there.”
I settled some paperwork, and made to leave the building – when the doors slid open.
Standing in front of me stood a giant of a man. He wore an ornately designed set of golden armour, his eyes were glowing blue and he had an aura of oppressive light that emanated from his very being. In his hand was a leash onto two enormous skeletal hounds, both of which glared at me with socket less eyes.
I immediately fell to my knees, kneeling before the figure.
“Hello. My name is Basileus.”
(I got a little carried away. Great prompt OP! I'll probably update it when I can, if anyone wants to read the continuation.)
| Dark room, quiet shadows, going through motions. I remember my life, remember what it looked like as all my memories flashed before my eyes in a bright moment of vivid color, and then it dawns on me. It wasn't my life. I remember it was a game, I remember I had been in the afterlife for years, and I remember that this was an event to remind everyone of life so no one goes crazy. They happen once a year. I look at my watch and tap a couple times to see my score: 96%. I smile and then bounce between conversations, talking about scores until I trip over my shoe lace. I turn over and look up to see another pitch black angel looking down at me. Slightly dazed, I look back and ask, "Score?" I hear a high, childlike laugh, and then wake up in an alleyway. I brush myself off and scamper away, hoping not to see the Seniors that beat me up. That won't be a dream I forget in a hurry. | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Incredible," I heard the voice say. "Simply incredible. We've never seen numbers like this."
"What's happened?"
"What's happened? Oh, if you only knew... we're still trying to wrap our heads around it ourselves. Numbers like this, well... we always thought they were theoretical."
"What's going on?"
"Yes, I should explain. Well, the most important bit first: you've died. It didn't hurt, did it? I should hope not, we've been working on the exit mechanism for a while. Bad consumer feedback, you see. The second thing you should know is that your past, what you think of as your life... isn't really a life. It was more of a game. The most complex, varied, incredible challenge ever designed. And you, YOU, of all the players we've had... scored the highest that we've ever seen."
"It was a game? And I won?"
"More of a test. And your results are extraordinary. An incredible accomplishment."
"But me? I didn't do anything, I was... a failure. I didn't DO anything, I didn't create great art, I didn't start a family, I didn't even have a pet..."
"Exactly! Don't you see? The game was stimulation overload. We put you in a world with six billion people, with seven completely unique continents, each filed to the brim with strange environments, wonderful people to be loved, problems to be solved, mysteries to be explored, religions to be studied, books to be read... and you ignored them all.
The ones who came before you, they couldn't resist. They had to take part. One of the previous players was a soldier, enlisted after 9/11, served three tours, sacrificed himself for his unit. Another became a doctor, used his interest in technology to create apps that kept people in shape, helping stomp out diabetes and obesity. Another fell in love with Katie, married her, raised four children and taught them all how to create beautiful art. Another you, tired of being lonely, joined every club at school, eventually joining the staff, becoming a teacher and guidance counselor, helping launch the careers or hundreds of small business owners, entrepreneurs, doctors...
The opportunities of the world we created, we made them impossible to ignore. And you did. You held a baby in your arms and felt nothing. We weren't prepared for that reaction, we couldn't conceive of it!"
"But wait... if the whole point was to not react, what about monks? What about shut-ins, what about all the ones who go without?"
"They went without, but they still saw the opportunities, they still appreciated them. The monks did hard work for others, the shut-ins busied themselves with personal works, scrapbooking or archiving... it was fruitless, but they didn't know that. They were still working towards the end goal. You weren't!"
"I can't believe it."
"We're going to have to redesign the entire operation now. We thought it would be impossible to do what you did, but it was. The next iteration, it will be... spectacular. Opportunities you couldn't conceive of, cultures and mysteries you couldn't imagine... it will be incredible."
"Can I see it?"
"Of course not. Why would we let you back in? It would ruin the experiment."
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"The same thing you did before. Nothing."
"Forever?"
"It's what you always wanted, isn't it?" | I've always had this fear of dying. In the afterlife, there'd be a bright light at the end of the tunnel and when you reach it, you'll find St. Peter with the Book of Life. From there, he will judge your worldly deeds and determine whether you are worthy of eternal life or eternal damnation. That's what I was taught and that's what I chose to believe.
When I came to, I was in a room filled with people; dead people, to be precise. No bright lights at the end of the tunnel. No angels flying amongst the clouds playing heavenly songs. Just a big room and lots of people.
Different races, different ages and yet we could all talk to and understand each other perfectly.
We spent what felt like an eternity in that room. We talked about our lives, our regrets, and even the circumstances of our deaths. Of the thousands of people I've talked to, most of them appeared to have been good people, which was a huge relief for me. I was in good company and there was no way in hell that we would have been damned for all eternity.
Suddenly, a man dressed in all black appeared.
"Attention everybody! If you could please check your pockets, you will find a piece of paper. Written on this paper is a number that will tell you which door to proceed to: the green door or the blue door. Thank you"
With that announcement, the man vanished and a hush fell on the room as everyone quietly inspects their number. I check my own stub and see "48,553" written in green ink. I look over to the woman beside me and she has "9,000" written in blue ink; old guy to my left had "5,000" in blue ink; some kid had "100" written in blue.
What was this number? Obviously, the ink color was the only thing that suggested which door we would proceed to. And yet the meaning behind the numbers was still unknown. Was it an evaluation of our worldy deeds - a life score perhaps? That was the only thing I could think about as I mindlessly go through the green door.
As soon as the door closed behind me, I realized that something was amiss. There were thousands of people in the other room, and yet only four of us here. Surely, there must have been more people with numbers written in green ink!
Time passed and not one other person entered the room. It was just myself and three other weirdos.
We shared our numbers with one another - all four widely different and yet all written in green ink.
I surveyed my companions to see if I could discern what type of person they were.
Whatever fate awaits them will surely befall on me too. My mind was clouded with this thought and all I could come up with was Lanky, Blacky, and Baldy.
*I'm terrible.*
As I try to process the situation further, the door opens and the man in black enters.
"It's time..."
As we shuffle out of the green room, the big hall we were just in is no more. Instead, the door now leads to a dark passageway. My heart drops and sweat starts to drip down my neck. The man in black leads the way through twists and turns while our small group nervously follows along. Just when I was entertaining thoughts of running away, there it was -
*The light at the end of the tunnel.*
It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the brightness but I gawk at the sight before me. Everyone who went through the blue door was there, comfortably seated in majestic chairs, towering over our small group. They were laughing and jeering as the man in black motions us to take a seat in front of this mob. My companions and I oblige - we know that judgement is coming and we are prepared.
A bespectacled figure slowly approaches us and the crowd grows silent. He gives us a warm smile before making his way to the podium. I close my eyes as he begins to speak.
["Hello. Welcome to the afterlife, where everything's made up and the points don't matter."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkMgAzpcI8k) | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Incredible," I heard the voice say. "Simply incredible. We've never seen numbers like this."
"What's happened?"
"What's happened? Oh, if you only knew... we're still trying to wrap our heads around it ourselves. Numbers like this, well... we always thought they were theoretical."
"What's going on?"
"Yes, I should explain. Well, the most important bit first: you've died. It didn't hurt, did it? I should hope not, we've been working on the exit mechanism for a while. Bad consumer feedback, you see. The second thing you should know is that your past, what you think of as your life... isn't really a life. It was more of a game. The most complex, varied, incredible challenge ever designed. And you, YOU, of all the players we've had... scored the highest that we've ever seen."
"It was a game? And I won?"
"More of a test. And your results are extraordinary. An incredible accomplishment."
"But me? I didn't do anything, I was... a failure. I didn't DO anything, I didn't create great art, I didn't start a family, I didn't even have a pet..."
"Exactly! Don't you see? The game was stimulation overload. We put you in a world with six billion people, with seven completely unique continents, each filed to the brim with strange environments, wonderful people to be loved, problems to be solved, mysteries to be explored, religions to be studied, books to be read... and you ignored them all.
The ones who came before you, they couldn't resist. They had to take part. One of the previous players was a soldier, enlisted after 9/11, served three tours, sacrificed himself for his unit. Another became a doctor, used his interest in technology to create apps that kept people in shape, helping stomp out diabetes and obesity. Another fell in love with Katie, married her, raised four children and taught them all how to create beautiful art. Another you, tired of being lonely, joined every club at school, eventually joining the staff, becoming a teacher and guidance counselor, helping launch the careers or hundreds of small business owners, entrepreneurs, doctors...
The opportunities of the world we created, we made them impossible to ignore. And you did. You held a baby in your arms and felt nothing. We weren't prepared for that reaction, we couldn't conceive of it!"
"But wait... if the whole point was to not react, what about monks? What about shut-ins, what about all the ones who go without?"
"They went without, but they still saw the opportunities, they still appreciated them. The monks did hard work for others, the shut-ins busied themselves with personal works, scrapbooking or archiving... it was fruitless, but they didn't know that. They were still working towards the end goal. You weren't!"
"I can't believe it."
"We're going to have to redesign the entire operation now. We thought it would be impossible to do what you did, but it was. The next iteration, it will be... spectacular. Opportunities you couldn't conceive of, cultures and mysteries you couldn't imagine... it will be incredible."
"Can I see it?"
"Of course not. Why would we let you back in? It would ruin the experiment."
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"The same thing you did before. Nothing."
"Forever?"
"It's what you always wanted, isn't it?" | "Even in the afterlife, silver medals..." Thought 2, as he had come to be known.
TJ he had been called during his "awake" period, which the other TJs had begun referring to life as.
TJs everywhere. Some fit, some slovenly. Some looked like twins yet received their "place numbers" that were drastically different.
"What's up 2!" Hollered 312 (Who happened to be identical in appearance to 37. 312 had a penchant for ladies of the night, and had been docked accordingly.
"Oh, hey dude" replied 2, "I'm going to the mansion today, 1 wants to meet me in person."
"Guy's a twat" muttered 312.
"Whatever 1 says, goes" 2 said with a look of surrender
"If you could just..." 312 trailed off. The two TJs had discussed with some of the Thousanders, guys whose numbers with a comma, the pariahs, had come to be known, about putting a hit on 1.
The TJs, 2 through 2,867 and counting, had grown tired of number 1's constant requests and demands.
"We can't just kill him, plus we're already dead. Have you figured out a way that it's even possible?" 2 asked.
"We could try some stuff out on the Thousanders" 312 offered
"Nah man, they are already screwed here" replied 2 with a hint of regret that he is even thinking of a self assassination plot, even just as a practical thought experiment.
"That is why you are 2 man, 1 goes for it" 312 chided
2 had spent months, talking to every other TJ, to determine some way to dethrone 1. His opportunity had been presented by a lowly thousander with a handwritten note summoning him to a one on one dinner. 2 couldn't help but see the irony in that....a 1 on 2 is more like it.
2 began his preparations for the meet with a shower and shave and began getting dressed.
"Good luck 2, you'll need it" 312 said relaxing with a drink, "guess I'll have to start calling you 1 if it works"
...ran out of time. Will try to finish. | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | The sparse white room was filled to the brim with black silhouettes. Each one was another dead man, woman or child. Though at a look you wouldn't know, everyone here looked the same. Your appearance in life didn't really matter here. Though I suppose that's not true. It mattered in a way, but not the way you think.
Above each of the heads was a number. Plain black. No embellishment. Just the number. There were some in the tens, most people were floating in the hundreds. A few people dotted about were in the thousands. If you were pretty eagle eyed, you could spot one or two in the tens of thousands, though it was difficult to pick out amongst the crowds. There were rumors that there was one guy in the hundreds of thousands. The myth varied in specifics, sometimes the man was Hitler, other times it was Caesar, or some other ancient leader, or warrior. Though rumors of this caliber tended to be overabundant in embellishment, and rather lacking in truth.
One man walked around the infinite expanse. He had no idea how long he'd been walking for. Time didn't really mean anything here. It could've been an eternity, it could've been a few seconds. Maybe time didn't even pass here? Who knows? The man tried to avoid the crowds. Tried being the operative word. You couldn't avoid the crowds. No matter how far you walked there were more people. The man had seen more figures than there had ever been humans on Earth. Probably. Some might have been the same people. Have you ever tried to count goldfish in a tank? Imagine that, but there are trillions upon billions of goldfish. Yeah.
Wherever the man went, he had to deal with them. No matter how far he walked, they were always there. Muttering under their breath. Shooting him sideways glances. Sometimes they were a little bit braver. A few might come up and talk to him. Other times they might all swarm him, barraging him with questions.
This was one of those times.
"HEY!"
Oh God.
"HEY YOU THERE!" The boy, the man assumed, it was pretty hard to tell, was reluctantly peeling off from the little group he'd been chatting with, started to jog towards the man who really, really wanted to just be left alone.
"Dude hold up" The boy grabbed the mans shoulder. There was no escaping this now.
"What's up?"
"Your score, man"
"My score?"
"Yeah, the number above your head!" The awe that the boy had been trying to keep from his voice, in order to maintain his composure, had started to creep in, coloring his his tone.
"Oh yeah" The man had this conversation more times than he could count. Maybe an infinite number of times. Maybe this conversation had happened before. Maybe it'd happened an infinite number of times. Who knows?
"It must be in the millions man, are you... I dunno some sort of hero?"
The man chuckled. That was always the first thing they asked. The next was...
"Wait, are you some sort of supervillain?"
That was the first time the man had heard it put that way.
"No, no, no. Nothing interesting like that, I'm afraid."
"Well, you must have done something cool!" The excitement was now clear in his voice, his composure long since gone.
"Now son, trust me, it's not."
"COOOME ON! You've got to tell me! Or I'll be wondering about it FOREVER"
The man mused on the fact that this was likely one of the first times he'd heard forever used in that way, and for it to actually be accurate.
"Okay! Okay, I'll tell you." The man gestured for the boy to come closer.
"I don't know how *they* add up score, I suppose. No-one does. But if I had to guess..."
The boy listened intently. This was perhaps, for him, the most exiting thing that had ever happened.
"I could jerk off like, 9 or 10 times a day."
"What."
"Yeah I know. I don't know how I did it. I thought it was completely normal, until me and my mates were talking about it, you know, like friends do, and they just all gave me this weird look."
"*What.*"
"I must have jerked off, like, hundreds of thousands of times. Maybe millions. Billions, even? I suppose if wanking even gives you a tenth of a point, that'd probably account for most of my score."
"Dude."
"I know. Pretty cool, right?"
The boy walked away slowly. Once he'd backed away an appreciable distance, he bolted back to the group from which he'd come.
The man sighed. No-one really cared once they found how he got the high score. | "Even in the afterlife, silver medals..." Thought 2, as he had come to be known.
TJ he had been called during his "awake" period, which the other TJs had begun referring to life as.
TJs everywhere. Some fit, some slovenly. Some looked like twins yet received their "place numbers" that were drastically different.
"What's up 2!" Hollered 312 (Who happened to be identical in appearance to 37. 312 had a penchant for ladies of the night, and had been docked accordingly.
"Oh, hey dude" replied 2, "I'm going to the mansion today, 1 wants to meet me in person."
"Guy's a twat" muttered 312.
"Whatever 1 says, goes" 2 said with a look of surrender
"If you could just..." 312 trailed off. The two TJs had discussed with some of the Thousanders, guys whose numbers with a comma, the pariahs, had come to be known, about putting a hit on 1.
The TJs, 2 through 2,867 and counting, had grown tired of number 1's constant requests and demands.
"We can't just kill him, plus we're already dead. Have you figured out a way that it's even possible?" 2 asked.
"We could try some stuff out on the Thousanders" 312 offered
"Nah man, they are already screwed here" replied 2 with a hint of regret that he is even thinking of a self assassination plot, even just as a practical thought experiment.
"That is why you are 2 man, 1 goes for it" 312 chided
2 had spent months, talking to every other TJ, to determine some way to dethrone 1. His opportunity had been presented by a lowly thousander with a handwritten note summoning him to a one on one dinner. 2 couldn't help but see the irony in that....a 1 on 2 is more like it.
2 began his preparations for the meet with a shower and shave and began getting dressed.
"Good luck 2, you'll need it" 312 said relaxing with a drink, "guess I'll have to start calling you 1 if it works"
...ran out of time. Will try to finish. | |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | Bright lights and a dull thump. White hot pain tore through my body at the same time as my vision began to fade. I heard my pulse fading and being replaced by a dull static buzzing, and then warmth. Time seemed to stretch out, stand still. And then there was nothing.
I opened my eyes to bright light and a warm breeze. Blinking a few times in confusion, I realized I was standing in front of a coffee shop, my hand on the door.
No, that’s not right. It wasn’t supposed to be day time. It was too hot outside. And I definitely wasn’t in this part of town a moment ago, though I did remember wishing I had a cup of coffee while I marched down the snowy road. As I was trying to process these facts, my hand had already pulled on the handle of the door, swinging it outward as my body turned to enter.
The first thing I noticed were the bright orange walls. Funny, I remembered them being yellow. As the bell above the door gave a small jingle, the barista gave a shout of ‘be right with you’ from a back room. It was busier than I’d ever seen it, but I didn’t have time to look around at the guests before something alarming caught my eye. I may not have been wearing my glasses, but even across the room, I could feel my breath catch as she walked up to the register. She. Was. Me.
She was all wrong, but she was definitely ME. Hair dyed a shade of brown and cropped short, tattoos on both forearms, and a figure I’ve never been able to attain, but looking into her eyes, I knew. By the crooked smile on her face—my smile— she did too.
“First time here, huh?”. I stared at her, eyes widened by shock. I couldn’t find any words to express the thousand questions racing through my brain, at the forefront of which were ‘No’, ‘Yes’, and ‘Are you a shapeshifter or have I completely lost my fucking mind!?’
She watched me like a cat watching a toy bobbing in front of its face. Calculating. Almost amused. Finally, I managed a small nod of my head. Words were still a ways off.
“I’ll get that mocha started for you.” With that, she turned around and pulled a fresh paper cup out.
No. Wrong. I hadn’t ordered anything. My brain was racing faster and faster to try to understand what was going on. By time she was walking back with the full cup in hand, I hadn’t managed to come up with a single useful answer to any of my questions. “Thanks.” I said quietly, not quite sure I’d really uttered the words at all. As I reached into my pocket to pull out my card, she put a hand up.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
I stared back, eyebrows slightly creased.
“All you can drink, doll. This party’s for you.” At this, she gestured to the room at large, smiling more gently than before. As I looked around, my racing thoughts screeched to a halt. Part of me wanted to fall to the ground and cry. The other part wanted to explode in laughter. Instead, I stood there, dead silent, clutching my coffee and studying every face in turn.
They were all me. All of them. Young and old. Plump and petite. Hair of varying shades and lengths and styles. Some with freckles or tattoos or piercings or glasses, others as perfect and pale as marble. Some barely recognizable, if not for their eyes and the small smiles they gave when they caught my eye. Every last person here was a version of me.
As I stood there, realization washed over me like the ice I had slipped on as the car came skidding around the corner. The blaring horn echoed in my ears, and I saw the lights spinning as they tried to avoid me just a second too late. It felt like a memory that had been forgotten for too long. Fuzzy on the edges, but with just enough detail to know it was real. Which could only mean one thing. I was dead.
If given a few seconds to sit alone and think, I probably would have started pondering the implications of this new awareness. Questioned my views on religion and the afterlife. Tried to come to terms with everything left unsaid and undone. Asked what would happen next. Instead, I felt something tap against my foot. I bent down and picked up a small plastic ball before glancing up to see a younger me nervously walking up to retrieve it.
“Um… can I have that back please?” She asked quietly.
She was definitely another me. I remembered that dress. I couldn’t have been more than four or five the last time I wore it. Was she a memory, or an alternate me? But then what did that mean for the others, some of whom were far older than I myself was when I—.
“Will you come sit with me? I’m lonely”.
Numbly, I followed her to one of the tables, where she climbed into the chair with a huff before handing the ball to me.
“It’s yours, you know.” She gave a tiny smile at this. Too sad and too knowing for someone so small. This snapped me back to reality, and I found my words for the first time since arriving.
“How did you get here?” I asked, trying to sound light, but detecting the strain in my own voice. God, I hoped I wasn’t right.
She spoke lightly, but I could hear the careful deliberation in her words. “We went to dad’s graduation. He was angry.”
My blood went cold. When I was five, my dad was put into a rehab, which he was kicked out of just before ‘graduating’ for planning the deaths of myself and my mother. We didn’t see him again after that. Could that mean this girl—this small me—was from another timeline? Somewhere where things had gone wrong? But then things went wrong for me, too. I was just as dead as she was. As everyone here was.
I was jarred from my thoughts by a tiny hand patting my arm. “It’s okay” she said in that small voice. “We all played a good game”.
“A game, huh?” I remembered how I loved to think of things as games at her age. Everything was a challenge, with rules and rewards only I knew. I guess I never really grew out of that.
“Yeah, a game. You did really, really well.” At this, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.
“How can you tell?”
“Look at your cup”. 98%. Could that mean—
“That good, huh?” I wasn’t sure why I was replying, or why I suddenly felt so comfortable talking to her, but I couldn’t stop myself from what I said next.
“That’s pretty good for someone who didn’t know they were playing.”
“Yep” she said in a matter of fact tone. “That’s part of the game. You don’t know you’re playing until it’s over.”
“Oh”.
“It’s okay. I didn’t know either.” At this, my heart gave another sharp pang in realization.
“What was your score?” I meant it to sound lighter. I really did, but it hurt to think what had happened to bring this girl here, assuming my guess was right.
“I got 13%. It’s okay though, I’m not sad.”
I couldn’t think of a good answer, so I raised my cup to my lips and took a long sip instead. Unfazed, she went on.
“Lots of us have stories to tell. It’s like a fairy tale, but they’re all about me.” There were so many ways to take this, but I didn’t have time. Or maybe I did. I’m not sure.
“Which one is your favorite?”
She grinned at this. “Her.” I followed her pointing finger with my gaze. It landed on a girl on a couch who looked exactly like me, down to the scab on my left arm, though it looked older than my own.
“Why’s that?” I asked, heart speeding up. Wait, did I still have a heart, or was I just imagining it?
“She had 98% too. You’ll like her a lot.” At this, she hopped off her chair and stared at me expectantly. Still unsure, I gripped my cup with both hands. “Come on.” She said before getting up and skipping toward the other me.
| "Even in the afterlife, silver medals..." Thought 2, as he had come to be known.
TJ he had been called during his "awake" period, which the other TJs had begun referring to life as.
TJs everywhere. Some fit, some slovenly. Some looked like twins yet received their "place numbers" that were drastically different.
"What's up 2!" Hollered 312 (Who happened to be identical in appearance to 37. 312 had a penchant for ladies of the night, and had been docked accordingly.
"Oh, hey dude" replied 2, "I'm going to the mansion today, 1 wants to meet me in person."
"Guy's a twat" muttered 312.
"Whatever 1 says, goes" 2 said with a look of surrender
"If you could just..." 312 trailed off. The two TJs had discussed with some of the Thousanders, guys whose numbers with a comma, the pariahs, had come to be known, about putting a hit on 1.
The TJs, 2 through 2,867 and counting, had grown tired of number 1's constant requests and demands.
"We can't just kill him, plus we're already dead. Have you figured out a way that it's even possible?" 2 asked.
"We could try some stuff out on the Thousanders" 312 offered
"Nah man, they are already screwed here" replied 2 with a hint of regret that he is even thinking of a self assassination plot, even just as a practical thought experiment.
"That is why you are 2 man, 1 goes for it" 312 chided
2 had spent months, talking to every other TJ, to determine some way to dethrone 1. His opportunity had been presented by a lowly thousander with a handwritten note summoning him to a one on one dinner. 2 couldn't help but see the irony in that....a 1 on 2 is more like it.
2 began his preparations for the meet with a shower and shave and began getting dressed.
"Good luck 2, you'll need it" 312 said relaxing with a drink, "guess I'll have to start calling you 1 if it works"
...ran out of time. Will try to finish. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | The time on the display panels at the light rail read 8:10 AM. Damn, late again. Not that it was terribly unusual for me or anything. I'd just have to hustle the few blocks to the office, for not the first or second time this week.
I scanned my keycard as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to not attract any unwanted attention as I sneaked into the office. Well, maybe 'sneaked' is a bit of an exaggeration. When you have to walk past several rows of cubicles to access your workspace, it's a little difficult to be as sneaky as required.
Sneaking aside, something was different today.
"Huh?" I thought to myself, "I knew we had a high turnover rate here, but this is ridiculous". All the hunched over figures working arduously at their desks had to be new employees -- at least I'd never seen them before.
"Whatever", I thought to myself, and shrugged it off. As long as I'm not affected, BigCorp can do whatever they want.
A sip of coffee, some chair adjustments, CTRL + ALT + DELETE, and I was logged on to my terminal.
"346 new emails? What the.."
As I clicked through a list of internal emails, the majority of senders whom I did not recognize, one stood out from the group. Kelly. Kelly Hayes. Now that was a name that stood out for various reasons. Intrigued, I opened the message.
Click-click.
The email, now open, contained an unusual directive.
"Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!
Kelly"
Instinctively, I pulled my hands away from the keyboard, almost as if to shelter myself from the strange turn my morning had taken. Surveying my situation, it was apparent I was the only one deviating from the "head down, working hard" performance all my colleagues appeared to be knocking out of the park. There was only one thing to do.
Ding! The elevator arrived promptly and ferried me to my destination with no additional stops. In retrospect, this was one of the more bizarre parts of the day, since an elevator ride at BigCorp inevitably involves a myriad of stops as staff and couriers travel from one floor to another.
The elevator stopped. I was at my destination.
The only person in the lobby was a man I didn't recognize. He was finishing up what seemed like an argumentative conversation with someone on his phone. As the elevator door clanged shut behind me, he spoke one final assurance to the person on the other end of the line:
" I'm taking care of it -- just about to handle the one we missed."
| When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | I stared blankly at the email.
"What is this?" I asked myself, just loudly enough to confirm I wasn't sleeping but quietly enough that no one would over hear me. Wanting to be sure, I slowly and carefully lifted myself out of my chair, without making a noise, to peek over into the cubicle next to me. Sitting there, quietly working at her computer, was a total stranger. I quickly fell back into my seat and opened the email again. Something was most definitely up.
I walked along the corridor, careful not to make eye contact with anyone, for fear that doing so might set one of them off, throwing themselves at me with a ballpoint pen aimed at my jugular. Everything seemed so normal though. The same rows of cubicles, the same sound of phones ringing, the click clacking of hundreds of fingers on keyboards.
I pushed open the door to the meeting room, wide enough to slip in unnoticed, and was greeted by the first familiar face I'd seen all day.
"Doug, what's going on, who are these people?" said Kelly, her nerves obvious in her voice.
"I came to ask you the same thing! It's freaking me out, I don't recognise anyone... except you of course"
"Same, it's really weird" She stood up and moved toward the window "Everything feels perfectly normal, and everything seemed to be when I came in this morning. It was only after lunch, in the meeting, that it dawned on me that I had no idea who anyone was."
"So why do we recognise each other?"
"I don't know. But I don't like this, I want to go home." She was chewing on her finger, staring out the window at the street below. Obviously she'd expected me to have some answers just as I'd expected them to come from her.
"Look, there has to be a rational explanation behind all this" I said, struggling to contain the twisting panic that was manifesting in my stomach. "Maybe we just... came to the wrong building this morning, and were too caught up in work to take notice?"
"What, both of us? Both us managed to come to the wrong building and just *didn't notice*. Come on Doug!" she said, her condescending response slipping back into panic.
"I'm just trying to stay rational", I retorted. "I don't see you coming up with anything."
The sudden rattling of someone trying the door handle caused us both to twist in the direction of the door with a sudden jerk. I'd forgotten I locked it as I came in, to make sure we weren't interrupted.
"What should we do?" I whispered to Kelly.
"OCCUPIED!" she yelled in response, more at the door than me. The rattling stopped, and after a few minutes of tense silence, we relaxed a little, confident we'd bought ourselves a little more time.
"I think we should leave" said Kelly, the nerves in her voice more pronounced than before. "Quickly, but not obviously. We'll head to the elevator, down to the lobby and just walk out. No questions asked."
"Agreed" I replied, surprised at how much the interruption had rattled me.
Opening the door a crack, I peered down the long hallway toward the elevator, patiently waiting for us at the far end.
"Looks clear" I said, and we slipped through the crack of the door, one after another, and started making our way down the hallway with both of us trying to look as nonchalant as possible. The hallway seemed to go on forever. Had it always been this long? I couldn't remember. It looked different too. There were doors where there had been none before and paintings hanging on the walls that I hadn't noticed on my way to meet Kelly, containing bizarre, unsettling imagery. Had they always been there?
We reached the elevator and Kelly hurried to push the call button. I looked back down the way we'd come. It was empty, save for the mysterious new not new doors and paintings. The elevator doors opened with a chime, and we stepped inside.
"Doug?" said Kelly.
I was still staring down the hallway. At the other end, some people had appeared. Two men and a woman, dressed in business attire but just as unfamiliar as my neighbour back in the cubicle. I squinted a little harder, trying to make sure the distance wasn't just playing with my eyes, and that these were in fact strangers.
"Doug!" Kelly said, harder and louder this time, catching my attention.
"Huh, what? What?"
"Do these symbols mean anything to you?"
Not immediately understanding her, I glanced over at the buttons. Sure enough, in place of what had been numbers and letters, were groups of odd symbols, each comprised of small dots and jagged lines.
"What the hell...?" I mumbled. I pushed my finger against one of the buttons, just enough to feel the impressions of the symbols, but not enough to depress the button fully.
"I don't think we should take the elevator" I said, stepping back into the hallway. "Come on, we'll try the stairs".
We walked through the winding corridors, a little faster than last time, passing doors neither of us remembered being there before and occasionally dipping our heads to make sure we didn't meet anyone's gaze. Eventually, we found the fire escape and pushed through the heavy swing doors into the cooler air of the concrete stairwell. It seemed empty at first glance, and we hurriedly made our way down the seven floors to the lobby.
Kelly went first this time, nervously pushing the fire door open into the small space at the back of the lobby. It was exceedingly quiet, and there was no one manning the reception desk as we'd expected there to be.
"If we're going to leave unnoticed it should be now, while the place is empty." I said, nudging Kelly in the back to coax her into venturing further. Again, we quickly, but carefully made our way across the room, expecting someone to jump out from anywhere and wrestle us to the ground. Everything seemed normal, just as it had upstairs, but there was still something off about the place. The lack of receptionist being the most obvious, but outside, on the street were shops I didn't recognise from my morning commute, and on the tables in the various waiting areas, were magazines that I had never seen before. Even behind the reception desk, the gold plated signs indicating what each floor of the building was used for suddenly sported the same weird symbols we'd seen in the elevator.
Kelly pushed open the door to the building and we both stepped out onto the street. For a good few minutes neither of us spoke. I looked down the street, to where I'd normally catch my bus to and from work, and was relieved to see it still there, with a long line of people waiting for the next pickup. Across the street were still the new shops that had inexplicably replaced the ones I'd remembered being there before. And here and there were the weird symbols again, interspersed among English, on street signs, the sides of buses and taxis and even on the newspapers being sold on the street.
Pondering this, as the adrenaline of our flight subsided, I turned to Kelly to point it out to her, only to find her staring, mouth slightly agape at where we'd just come from. I followed her gaze and to my own shock found nothing but a brick wall. | When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | Hey Reddit,
TIFU by accidentally making out with someone during an alien invasion.
I’m a 30 year old guy working at a company you’ve never heard of. I got into work earlier today and just loaded up Reddit first thing. Spent some time scrolling around the front page, messing around for fun. E-mails kept popping up in the bottom of my screen, but they all looked boring so I just clicked the little x’s a few times. Did this for about four hours until it was time for lunch. I’d brought a sandwich from home and just planned to eat that, but before I could, some guy barged into my cubicle and asked if I was ready to leave for lunch. He looked kind of confused and asked me what I was doing. I just said, “Same old, same old,” and he gave a noncommittal laugh.
“So, are you IT then? And do you know where Jim went?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Sorry, which question were you answering?” he asked.
“What were the questions again?” I asked.
“Never mind, it’s fine; I’ll go find him,” he said, and he wandered off.
I thought it was a little weird, but whatever. Ate lunch and went back to messing around online. Around 3:00pm, I headed to the bathroom, and that’s when everything got really weird. I passed a few people I didn’t recognize and at first I just thought, “Oh, great, new hires, now I have someone else to pass work to.” But as I walked along past all the cubicles, I realized I didn’t know anyone here. Every face was new. I got to the bathroom eventually, did what I needed to do, and left again.
Okay, no worries, I thought. I’m probably just spending too much time inside my cubicle. I’ll just go and waste time talking to Matt for a while. I headed to his cubicle, but he wasn’t there. Instead there was some random woman. I looked next door. Some random guy I’d never seen before. Oh god. It was like *Invasion of the Body Snatchers* or something. I’d never seen the movie, but I knew the premise. Actually, now that I thought about it, I’m pretty sure the movie was about aliens stealing people’s bodies, but still looking the same. Okay, I’d try to figure it out. They weren’t targeting me yet, I think.
I headed back to my cubicle. In the corner was an email from Kelly Fitzgerald, saying, “Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!” Oh finally, someone I knew! I clicked on it, and the text below just said, “I’m in the basement janitor’s closet.”
I slowly walked to the elevator, my heart hammering. No one seemed to be following me, fortunately. I still had hope. I jabbed the button for the bottom floor and rode it all the way down. I got out and spent a few minutes searching for the closet before carefully siding up to it, in case anyone was watching me. Then I quickly opened the closet door and slid inside.
It was completely dark inside, but I could dimly make out the form of a woman. “Oh hey,” whispered Kelly, “I see you got my email.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what we’re going to do. I hope you don’t get me sick, though. I remember you had that cough yesterday, and your voice sounds a little off now,” she said.
“Wait, what cough?” I whispered, but that’s when I felt her playing with the buttons on my shirt. “What are you doing?”
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered back, as she started to loosen my tie.
“Can you tell me about what’s going on up there?” I asked.
She answered, “Why talk about work when we can have some fun? Now come on.” She leaned in close and kissed me. “Wait a second…” she said.
“But, the aliens…” I said simultaneously.
“What aliens?” she asked.
“The ones stealing everyone’s faces,” I replied.
She let go of my tie. “Who is this?” She pulled out her phone and shone the light on me.
“Oh God!” she shrieked. “Where’s Jim?!”
Well, turns out I’d gotten off the elevator this morning at the fourth floor instead of the fifth and just sat down at the computer of some guy who happened to be out sick today, whose cubicle happened to be in the same relative location. Jim and Kelly had been having a secret office romance, but she agreed that we would keep each other’s secrets safe. I wouldn’t mention anything to Jim or the rest of his department, and she wouldn’t mention to anyone in my department that I’d assumed they’d all been taken over by shapeshifting aliens. A fair trade. | When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | Carolyn rode the elevator enduring a pounding headache. She dreaded the thought of listening to the chatter of her coworkers, but she couldn't afford to skip work today. She had already wasted most of her sick days and didn't want to run out of them just in case she really needed them. Thankfully, "The Alchemist" had gone on a rampage earlier that day and most of downtown was wrecked in the aftermath. She could come in late, saying she was slowed down because of him, and suffer no repurcusions from management. One of the few perks of living in a city of superheroes and supervillains.
Once the elevator reached the accounting floor, it opened its doors and revealed to Carolyn a surprisingly quiet office. She wrinkled her forehead as she narrowed her eyes, inspecting the unfamiliar envirioment. This was definitely her floor, even if it was as silent as a graveyard. Carolyn shook her head and made her way to her desk, staring at the floor awkwardly to avoid anyone's gaze.
The lack of gossiping and banter was starting to affect Carolyn. Pulling out her chair, she couldn't help but feel an unnerving feeling creeping up her neck. Even the slightest action could be heard in this silence. Fixing her chair, shifting her weight on it, even booting up her computer caused some a loud sound to be heard. It was like it was amplified by the lack of anything else drowning out the noise. Carolyn then thought:
*"So this is what it feels like when people do work here... Weird. Thank god Bob didn't come in, he'd have a stroke if he actually had to work."*
Checking her emails, the woman saw a message from Kelly, one of her colleagues. It read:
*Act normal, meet me in the supply closet. Now!*
Carolyn leaned towards the monitor, then raised her head to see Kelly's desk. Her friend typed away at her computer stoically. If Carolyn didn't know any better, she'd even think she was working hard on her report. Still, upon further inspection, something was defintely bothering her. Her posture was stiff, her keyboard strokes erratic, and there was a tension on her shoulders that she usually never carried.
Kelly stood up, streched her back a bit, and, giving Carolyn a subttled nod, she walked into the supply closet. Carolyn just shrugged and followed her along. If there was one thing she learned working in this office, it's that you never go against whatever weirdness occurs. Trying to find normality in this workplace is like finding decent date for Carolyn; sure, it could happen once in a blue moon, but expecting it only led to dissapointment.
Carolyn entered the closet, only to find Kelly urging her to close the door. Afterwards, Carolyn said:
"Look, I know I'm late, but whatever gossip you have, can you save it for later? You're making it too obvious if-"
"No! You don't get it!" said Kelly. "Are you freaking blind?"
"Ouch!" Carolyn massaged her temple. "Not so loud, okay? I'm super hungover."
"Wait, is that why you're late?" Kelly sighed. "Whatever. That's not important right now."
"Then what *is*?"
"The fact that everyone in our office has been replaced by strangers! You and me are the only people who *should* be here!"
"Really...? I didn't even notice it."
"Yeah!" Kelly pointed at the door. "Look for yourself!"
She creaked the door open slightly and peeked through the tiny slit. Kelly was right. Carolyn couldn't recongize anyone there. They *seemed* normal, filing papers and working on their desks, but everything about their movements was subtly *off*. Too robotic, too precise, too... inhuman.
Carolyn leaned back from the door and said:
"Ok, so what the hell is going on?"
"I don't know... but whatever it is, it's incredibly dangerous."
"What? Why?"
Kelly shifted her stare downwards and opened her mouth, but words didn't come out. It seemed painful for her to remember. She then closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and said:
"Henry was eaten alive by them."
"Y-you're kidding, right? This has to be a prank. Did Bob set you up for this?!?"
"No! I'm telling the truth! I was here early, then they started to come in. I didn't notice they weren't from here at first, but then Henry came. He... he interrupted one of them to say hello, and everyone stood up and tore him to shreds. It..." Kelly let out a few tears. "It was disgusting. They just ate him up, clothes and all, and called a janitor to clean it up. Then..." she shook her head, "they just kept working like nothing happened."
Carolyn widened her eyes in shock. Kelly couldn't be making this up. Her reaction was too geniune and scared. Carolyn laid her hand on Kelly's shoulder, softening her expression before a loud, male voice outside said:
"Hey everyone, sorry I'm late! That crazy alchemist guy really tore up downtown! I couldn't even get here until now! By the way, Carolyn isn't coming in today, she woke up sick today."
Carolyn instantly recognized who it was. Bob. That lying bastard was using the same excuse she came up with. Sure, they were getting wasted together the previous night, but he didn't have to go around parroting his explanation without anyone asking. That just made it obvious that he was lying. Not only that, it also made it harder for her excuse to sound valid if Bob, of all people, was using the same one. Carolyn tightened her fist with annoyance, but quickly remembered the situation they were in.
If Bob acted his usual, annoying self, he was doomed. He was used to bothering everyone in the office. Interrupting one of these... *things* would probably trigger the same reaction that got Henry killed. This isn't going to be pretty for him.
Carolyn peeked out the door and observed Bob. Surpised to see him smiling with energy, Carloyn wondered what was his secret. He had drank an absurd amount of whiskey the night before, but still managed to act like he felt normal. It's like he didn't even feel a bit hungover. He then went to his desk, passing by a couple of pseudo-workers, and didn't say a word to any them. Out of all the things that had happened today, for Carolyn, *this* was the weirdest. Why wasn't he talking to anyone? He usually couldn't keeep his mouth shut without blathering some idiotic idea after ten minutes.
Bob wheeled out his chair and sat on it, getting out some papers from the cabinet on his right. Setting them neatly on his desk, he accidentally swatted a pen sending it flying a few feet away. Bob then turned his chair around to face the man behind him. Carolyn immediately held her breath. Bob was going to ask that *thing* to pick up his pen. The woman's hands shook with horror at he violent death he would recieve. He raised his hand with his index finger straightened, leaned his chair towards the *thing* working in silence, and gestured to speak with it, but retracted his hand while shaking his head. He then stood up from his chair, walked around the thing's desk, and squated to pick up his pen.
Carolyn let out a sigh of relief. She couldn't understand why Bob suddenly decided to *not* act lazy, considering she'd never seen him do this before, but she was glad he picked today to finally do something for himself. Carolyn then turned around and said:
"Okay Kelly, we need to get the fuck out of here. Bob hasn't done anything stupid... yet, so we need to grab him nonchalantly and bolt."
"B-but what if those things eat us? They won't just let us escape... right?"
"I was wondering the same thing, but I doubt it. It's like these things only care about getting their work done. We're probably safe just as long as we don't bother them. Are you ready?"
Kelly nodded, prompting Carolyn to exit the closet with her. Stepping through the office, they were careful to not bump into anyone and slowly made their way to Bob, who typed on his keyboard and filed some documents. Carolyn couldn't believe what was happening. Bob was actually *working*. If they weren't in mortal danger, she would probably leave him there. He was a few days behind on some statements he had to do, so disrupting his sudden motivation to work wouldn't really benefit him.
Carolyn tapped on Bob's shoulder and said:
"We *need* to get out of here. Now."
"Oh, hey Carolyn!" He straightened his posture and turned his chair around. "I uhh... I thought you were *sick* today." He looked behind her. "Hi Kelly!"
Kelly waved at him with a dry smile and said:
"Hi Bob, could you uhh, could you follow us outside for a moment?"
"I dunno about that..." said Bob. "Everyone seems to be working. It really wouldn't be fair to them if I took a break right when I got here. Did a lot of people get fired? Our department suddenly got filled with new people..."
Carolyn rolled her eyes and said:
"This is quite literally the worst time to be responsible for once." She grabbed his arm and pulled him upwards. "Get up; We're leaving."
Bob stood up and shrugged, going along with Carolyn's order. She then realized what was happening with him. He was just pretending to be a resonsible worker to fit in with the new crowd. As soon as Carolyn gave him a chance to be lazy, he took it. He was just playing hard to get so that he has an excuse for getting into trouble. Carolyn still studied Bob when they were near the elevator. Just when she couldn't shake off a bad feeling, she bumped into one of the *workers* and caused him to scatter his papers all over the floor.
----------------------------
Continued in a comment below | When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | When I arrived downstairs I was a little perplexed as the area was entirely renovated since the last time I saw it. I wondered how so much work could have been done in one morning; an entire wall had been broken down and a little interior garden with a fountain was fully integrated into the entrance hall of the building.
Kelly seemed irritated at my gawking and told me to follow her outside so that no-one could hear us.
Once there, she lit up a cigarette nervously and said; "This is what you get for playing around with psychedelics!". I suddenly remembered that I had brewed home-made DMT the previous night and we had consumed a bit of it on our afternoon tea-break at 2:45pm.
Kelly proceeded with a detailed account of her experience. As she related it, I found her quite lucky to have been able to trace the mental path that led to the current situation, for I had basically just walked to the restrooms and came to a few minutes later, dazed and confused.
She explained to me that as she also felt quite insecure being so high in front of all her colleagues, she decided like me to sit it out in the ladies' room. She, though, had had a spectacular experience.
She told me that she found herself drifting up and out of her physical body and as she looked down on herself, she was certain that she was experiencing death. Her crumpled self was on the floor, unconscious. Something drew her through what felt like a vacuum cleaner pipe then she suddenly found herself seated on the guest side of a large wooden desk. A blond toddler was sitting in front of her, his head in his hands. As he shook his head he muttered "I hate this job". Kelly noticed that there was a plaque on the wall behind him, with a certificate mentioning the title of "Spokesperson for the Grand Gridmaster of the 102nd Dimension".
He explained to her monotonously that she had interfered with her grid level compatibility and it was his task to send her back as accurately as possible to the reality she was born into and had continued fashioning in the course of her life. There was no guarantee she would have access to the same set of circumstances she exited with. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | I stared blankly at the email.
"What is this?" I asked myself, just loudly enough to confirm I wasn't sleeping but quietly enough that no one would over hear me. Wanting to be sure, I slowly and carefully lifted myself out of my chair, without making a noise, to peek over into the cubicle next to me. Sitting there, quietly working at her computer, was a total stranger. I quickly fell back into my seat and opened the email again. Something was most definitely up.
I walked along the corridor, careful not to make eye contact with anyone, for fear that doing so might set one of them off, throwing themselves at me with a ballpoint pen aimed at my jugular. Everything seemed so normal though. The same rows of cubicles, the same sound of phones ringing, the click clacking of hundreds of fingers on keyboards.
I pushed open the door to the meeting room, wide enough to slip in unnoticed, and was greeted by the first familiar face I'd seen all day.
"Doug, what's going on, who are these people?" said Kelly, her nerves obvious in her voice.
"I came to ask you the same thing! It's freaking me out, I don't recognise anyone... except you of course"
"Same, it's really weird" She stood up and moved toward the window "Everything feels perfectly normal, and everything seemed to be when I came in this morning. It was only after lunch, in the meeting, that it dawned on me that I had no idea who anyone was."
"So why do we recognise each other?"
"I don't know. But I don't like this, I want to go home." She was chewing on her finger, staring out the window at the street below. Obviously she'd expected me to have some answers just as I'd expected them to come from her.
"Look, there has to be a rational explanation behind all this" I said, struggling to contain the twisting panic that was manifesting in my stomach. "Maybe we just... came to the wrong building this morning, and were too caught up in work to take notice?"
"What, both of us? Both us managed to come to the wrong building and just *didn't notice*. Come on Doug!" she said, her condescending response slipping back into panic.
"I'm just trying to stay rational", I retorted. "I don't see you coming up with anything."
The sudden rattling of someone trying the door handle caused us both to twist in the direction of the door with a sudden jerk. I'd forgotten I locked it as I came in, to make sure we weren't interrupted.
"What should we do?" I whispered to Kelly.
"OCCUPIED!" she yelled in response, more at the door than me. The rattling stopped, and after a few minutes of tense silence, we relaxed a little, confident we'd bought ourselves a little more time.
"I think we should leave" said Kelly, the nerves in her voice more pronounced than before. "Quickly, but not obviously. We'll head to the elevator, down to the lobby and just walk out. No questions asked."
"Agreed" I replied, surprised at how much the interruption had rattled me.
Opening the door a crack, I peered down the long hallway toward the elevator, patiently waiting for us at the far end.
"Looks clear" I said, and we slipped through the crack of the door, one after another, and started making our way down the hallway with both of us trying to look as nonchalant as possible. The hallway seemed to go on forever. Had it always been this long? I couldn't remember. It looked different too. There were doors where there had been none before and paintings hanging on the walls that I hadn't noticed on my way to meet Kelly, containing bizarre, unsettling imagery. Had they always been there?
We reached the elevator and Kelly hurried to push the call button. I looked back down the way we'd come. It was empty, save for the mysterious new not new doors and paintings. The elevator doors opened with a chime, and we stepped inside.
"Doug?" said Kelly.
I was still staring down the hallway. At the other end, some people had appeared. Two men and a woman, dressed in business attire but just as unfamiliar as my neighbour back in the cubicle. I squinted a little harder, trying to make sure the distance wasn't just playing with my eyes, and that these were in fact strangers.
"Doug!" Kelly said, harder and louder this time, catching my attention.
"Huh, what? What?"
"Do these symbols mean anything to you?"
Not immediately understanding her, I glanced over at the buttons. Sure enough, in place of what had been numbers and letters, were groups of odd symbols, each comprised of small dots and jagged lines.
"What the hell...?" I mumbled. I pushed my finger against one of the buttons, just enough to feel the impressions of the symbols, but not enough to depress the button fully.
"I don't think we should take the elevator" I said, stepping back into the hallway. "Come on, we'll try the stairs".
We walked through the winding corridors, a little faster than last time, passing doors neither of us remembered being there before and occasionally dipping our heads to make sure we didn't meet anyone's gaze. Eventually, we found the fire escape and pushed through the heavy swing doors into the cooler air of the concrete stairwell. It seemed empty at first glance, and we hurriedly made our way down the seven floors to the lobby.
Kelly went first this time, nervously pushing the fire door open into the small space at the back of the lobby. It was exceedingly quiet, and there was no one manning the reception desk as we'd expected there to be.
"If we're going to leave unnoticed it should be now, while the place is empty." I said, nudging Kelly in the back to coax her into venturing further. Again, we quickly, but carefully made our way across the room, expecting someone to jump out from anywhere and wrestle us to the ground. Everything seemed normal, just as it had upstairs, but there was still something off about the place. The lack of receptionist being the most obvious, but outside, on the street were shops I didn't recognise from my morning commute, and on the tables in the various waiting areas, were magazines that I had never seen before. Even behind the reception desk, the gold plated signs indicating what each floor of the building was used for suddenly sported the same weird symbols we'd seen in the elevator.
Kelly pushed open the door to the building and we both stepped out onto the street. For a good few minutes neither of us spoke. I looked down the street, to where I'd normally catch my bus to and from work, and was relieved to see it still there, with a long line of people waiting for the next pickup. Across the street were still the new shops that had inexplicably replaced the ones I'd remembered being there before. And here and there were the weird symbols again, interspersed among English, on street signs, the sides of buses and taxis and even on the newspapers being sold on the street.
Pondering this, as the adrenaline of our flight subsided, I turned to Kelly to point it out to her, only to find her staring, mouth slightly agape at where we'd just come from. I followed her gaze and to my own shock found nothing but a brick wall. | The time on the display panels at the light rail read 8:10 AM. Damn, late again. Not that it was terribly unusual for me or anything. I'd just have to hustle the few blocks to the office, for not the first or second time this week.
I scanned my keycard as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to not attract any unwanted attention as I sneaked into the office. Well, maybe 'sneaked' is a bit of an exaggeration. When you have to walk past several rows of cubicles to access your workspace, it's a little difficult to be as sneaky as required.
Sneaking aside, something was different today.
"Huh?" I thought to myself, "I knew we had a high turnover rate here, but this is ridiculous". All the hunched over figures working arduously at their desks had to be new employees -- at least I'd never seen them before.
"Whatever", I thought to myself, and shrugged it off. As long as I'm not affected, BigCorp can do whatever they want.
A sip of coffee, some chair adjustments, CTRL + ALT + DELETE, and I was logged on to my terminal.
"346 new emails? What the.."
As I clicked through a list of internal emails, the majority of senders whom I did not recognize, one stood out from the group. Kelly. Kelly Hayes. Now that was a name that stood out for various reasons. Intrigued, I opened the message.
Click-click.
The email, now open, contained an unusual directive.
"Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!
Kelly"
Instinctively, I pulled my hands away from the keyboard, almost as if to shelter myself from the strange turn my morning had taken. Surveying my situation, it was apparent I was the only one deviating from the "head down, working hard" performance all my colleagues appeared to be knocking out of the park. There was only one thing to do.
Ding! The elevator arrived promptly and ferried me to my destination with no additional stops. In retrospect, this was one of the more bizarre parts of the day, since an elevator ride at BigCorp inevitably involves a myriad of stops as staff and couriers travel from one floor to another.
The elevator stopped. I was at my destination.
The only person in the lobby was a man I didn't recognize. He was finishing up what seemed like an argumentative conversation with someone on his phone. As the elevator door clanged shut behind me, he spoke one final assurance to the person on the other end of the line:
" I'm taking care of it -- just about to handle the one we missed."
| |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | Hey Reddit,
TIFU by accidentally making out with someone during an alien invasion.
I’m a 30 year old guy working at a company you’ve never heard of. I got into work earlier today and just loaded up Reddit first thing. Spent some time scrolling around the front page, messing around for fun. E-mails kept popping up in the bottom of my screen, but they all looked boring so I just clicked the little x’s a few times. Did this for about four hours until it was time for lunch. I’d brought a sandwich from home and just planned to eat that, but before I could, some guy barged into my cubicle and asked if I was ready to leave for lunch. He looked kind of confused and asked me what I was doing. I just said, “Same old, same old,” and he gave a noncommittal laugh.
“So, are you IT then? And do you know where Jim went?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Sorry, which question were you answering?” he asked.
“What were the questions again?” I asked.
“Never mind, it’s fine; I’ll go find him,” he said, and he wandered off.
I thought it was a little weird, but whatever. Ate lunch and went back to messing around online. Around 3:00pm, I headed to the bathroom, and that’s when everything got really weird. I passed a few people I didn’t recognize and at first I just thought, “Oh, great, new hires, now I have someone else to pass work to.” But as I walked along past all the cubicles, I realized I didn’t know anyone here. Every face was new. I got to the bathroom eventually, did what I needed to do, and left again.
Okay, no worries, I thought. I’m probably just spending too much time inside my cubicle. I’ll just go and waste time talking to Matt for a while. I headed to his cubicle, but he wasn’t there. Instead there was some random woman. I looked next door. Some random guy I’d never seen before. Oh god. It was like *Invasion of the Body Snatchers* or something. I’d never seen the movie, but I knew the premise. Actually, now that I thought about it, I’m pretty sure the movie was about aliens stealing people’s bodies, but still looking the same. Okay, I’d try to figure it out. They weren’t targeting me yet, I think.
I headed back to my cubicle. In the corner was an email from Kelly Fitzgerald, saying, “Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!” Oh finally, someone I knew! I clicked on it, and the text below just said, “I’m in the basement janitor’s closet.”
I slowly walked to the elevator, my heart hammering. No one seemed to be following me, fortunately. I still had hope. I jabbed the button for the bottom floor and rode it all the way down. I got out and spent a few minutes searching for the closet before carefully siding up to it, in case anyone was watching me. Then I quickly opened the closet door and slid inside.
It was completely dark inside, but I could dimly make out the form of a woman. “Oh hey,” whispered Kelly, “I see you got my email.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what we’re going to do. I hope you don’t get me sick, though. I remember you had that cough yesterday, and your voice sounds a little off now,” she said.
“Wait, what cough?” I whispered, but that’s when I felt her playing with the buttons on my shirt. “What are you doing?”
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered back, as she started to loosen my tie.
“Can you tell me about what’s going on up there?” I asked.
She answered, “Why talk about work when we can have some fun? Now come on.” She leaned in close and kissed me. “Wait a second…” she said.
“But, the aliens…” I said simultaneously.
“What aliens?” she asked.
“The ones stealing everyone’s faces,” I replied.
She let go of my tie. “Who is this?” She pulled out her phone and shone the light on me.
“Oh God!” she shrieked. “Where’s Jim?!”
Well, turns out I’d gotten off the elevator this morning at the fourth floor instead of the fifth and just sat down at the computer of some guy who happened to be out sick today, whose cubicle happened to be in the same relative location. Jim and Kelly had been having a secret office romance, but she agreed that we would keep each other’s secrets safe. I wouldn’t mention anything to Jim or the rest of his department, and she wouldn’t mention to anyone in my department that I’d assumed they’d all been taken over by shapeshifting aliens. A fair trade. | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | Carolyn rode the elevator enduring a pounding headache. She dreaded the thought of listening to the chatter of her coworkers, but she couldn't afford to skip work today. She had already wasted most of her sick days and didn't want to run out of them just in case she really needed them. Thankfully, "The Alchemist" had gone on a rampage earlier that day and most of downtown was wrecked in the aftermath. She could come in late, saying she was slowed down because of him, and suffer no repurcusions from management. One of the few perks of living in a city of superheroes and supervillains.
Once the elevator reached the accounting floor, it opened its doors and revealed to Carolyn a surprisingly quiet office. She wrinkled her forehead as she narrowed her eyes, inspecting the unfamiliar envirioment. This was definitely her floor, even if it was as silent as a graveyard. Carolyn shook her head and made her way to her desk, staring at the floor awkwardly to avoid anyone's gaze.
The lack of gossiping and banter was starting to affect Carolyn. Pulling out her chair, she couldn't help but feel an unnerving feeling creeping up her neck. Even the slightest action could be heard in this silence. Fixing her chair, shifting her weight on it, even booting up her computer caused some a loud sound to be heard. It was like it was amplified by the lack of anything else drowning out the noise. Carolyn then thought:
*"So this is what it feels like when people do work here... Weird. Thank god Bob didn't come in, he'd have a stroke if he actually had to work."*
Checking her emails, the woman saw a message from Kelly, one of her colleagues. It read:
*Act normal, meet me in the supply closet. Now!*
Carolyn leaned towards the monitor, then raised her head to see Kelly's desk. Her friend typed away at her computer stoically. If Carolyn didn't know any better, she'd even think she was working hard on her report. Still, upon further inspection, something was defintely bothering her. Her posture was stiff, her keyboard strokes erratic, and there was a tension on her shoulders that she usually never carried.
Kelly stood up, streched her back a bit, and, giving Carolyn a subttled nod, she walked into the supply closet. Carolyn just shrugged and followed her along. If there was one thing she learned working in this office, it's that you never go against whatever weirdness occurs. Trying to find normality in this workplace is like finding decent date for Carolyn; sure, it could happen once in a blue moon, but expecting it only led to dissapointment.
Carolyn entered the closet, only to find Kelly urging her to close the door. Afterwards, Carolyn said:
"Look, I know I'm late, but whatever gossip you have, can you save it for later? You're making it too obvious if-"
"No! You don't get it!" said Kelly. "Are you freaking blind?"
"Ouch!" Carolyn massaged her temple. "Not so loud, okay? I'm super hungover."
"Wait, is that why you're late?" Kelly sighed. "Whatever. That's not important right now."
"Then what *is*?"
"The fact that everyone in our office has been replaced by strangers! You and me are the only people who *should* be here!"
"Really...? I didn't even notice it."
"Yeah!" Kelly pointed at the door. "Look for yourself!"
She creaked the door open slightly and peeked through the tiny slit. Kelly was right. Carolyn couldn't recongize anyone there. They *seemed* normal, filing papers and working on their desks, but everything about their movements was subtly *off*. Too robotic, too precise, too... inhuman.
Carolyn leaned back from the door and said:
"Ok, so what the hell is going on?"
"I don't know... but whatever it is, it's incredibly dangerous."
"What? Why?"
Kelly shifted her stare downwards and opened her mouth, but words didn't come out. It seemed painful for her to remember. She then closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and said:
"Henry was eaten alive by them."
"Y-you're kidding, right? This has to be a prank. Did Bob set you up for this?!?"
"No! I'm telling the truth! I was here early, then they started to come in. I didn't notice they weren't from here at first, but then Henry came. He... he interrupted one of them to say hello, and everyone stood up and tore him to shreds. It..." Kelly let out a few tears. "It was disgusting. They just ate him up, clothes and all, and called a janitor to clean it up. Then..." she shook her head, "they just kept working like nothing happened."
Carolyn widened her eyes in shock. Kelly couldn't be making this up. Her reaction was too geniune and scared. Carolyn laid her hand on Kelly's shoulder, softening her expression before a loud, male voice outside said:
"Hey everyone, sorry I'm late! That crazy alchemist guy really tore up downtown! I couldn't even get here until now! By the way, Carolyn isn't coming in today, she woke up sick today."
Carolyn instantly recognized who it was. Bob. That lying bastard was using the same excuse she came up with. Sure, they were getting wasted together the previous night, but he didn't have to go around parroting his explanation without anyone asking. That just made it obvious that he was lying. Not only that, it also made it harder for her excuse to sound valid if Bob, of all people, was using the same one. Carolyn tightened her fist with annoyance, but quickly remembered the situation they were in.
If Bob acted his usual, annoying self, he was doomed. He was used to bothering everyone in the office. Interrupting one of these... *things* would probably trigger the same reaction that got Henry killed. This isn't going to be pretty for him.
Carolyn peeked out the door and observed Bob. Surpised to see him smiling with energy, Carloyn wondered what was his secret. He had drank an absurd amount of whiskey the night before, but still managed to act like he felt normal. It's like he didn't even feel a bit hungover. He then went to his desk, passing by a couple of pseudo-workers, and didn't say a word to any them. Out of all the things that had happened today, for Carolyn, *this* was the weirdest. Why wasn't he talking to anyone? He usually couldn't keeep his mouth shut without blathering some idiotic idea after ten minutes.
Bob wheeled out his chair and sat on it, getting out some papers from the cabinet on his right. Setting them neatly on his desk, he accidentally swatted a pen sending it flying a few feet away. Bob then turned his chair around to face the man behind him. Carolyn immediately held her breath. Bob was going to ask that *thing* to pick up his pen. The woman's hands shook with horror at he violent death he would recieve. He raised his hand with his index finger straightened, leaned his chair towards the *thing* working in silence, and gestured to speak with it, but retracted his hand while shaking his head. He then stood up from his chair, walked around the thing's desk, and squated to pick up his pen.
Carolyn let out a sigh of relief. She couldn't understand why Bob suddenly decided to *not* act lazy, considering she'd never seen him do this before, but she was glad he picked today to finally do something for himself. Carolyn then turned around and said:
"Okay Kelly, we need to get the fuck out of here. Bob hasn't done anything stupid... yet, so we need to grab him nonchalantly and bolt."
"B-but what if those things eat us? They won't just let us escape... right?"
"I was wondering the same thing, but I doubt it. It's like these things only care about getting their work done. We're probably safe just as long as we don't bother them. Are you ready?"
Kelly nodded, prompting Carolyn to exit the closet with her. Stepping through the office, they were careful to not bump into anyone and slowly made their way to Bob, who typed on his keyboard and filed some documents. Carolyn couldn't believe what was happening. Bob was actually *working*. If they weren't in mortal danger, she would probably leave him there. He was a few days behind on some statements he had to do, so disrupting his sudden motivation to work wouldn't really benefit him.
Carolyn tapped on Bob's shoulder and said:
"We *need* to get out of here. Now."
"Oh, hey Carolyn!" He straightened his posture and turned his chair around. "I uhh... I thought you were *sick* today." He looked behind her. "Hi Kelly!"
Kelly waved at him with a dry smile and said:
"Hi Bob, could you uhh, could you follow us outside for a moment?"
"I dunno about that..." said Bob. "Everyone seems to be working. It really wouldn't be fair to them if I took a break right when I got here. Did a lot of people get fired? Our department suddenly got filled with new people..."
Carolyn rolled her eyes and said:
"This is quite literally the worst time to be responsible for once." She grabbed his arm and pulled him upwards. "Get up; We're leaving."
Bob stood up and shrugged, going along with Carolyn's order. She then realized what was happening with him. He was just pretending to be a resonsible worker to fit in with the new crowd. As soon as Carolyn gave him a chance to be lazy, he took it. He was just playing hard to get so that he has an excuse for getting into trouble. Carolyn still studied Bob when they were near the elevator. Just when she couldn't shake off a bad feeling, she bumped into one of the *workers* and caused him to scatter his papers all over the floor.
----------------------------
Continued in a comment below | |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | They seemed to wear blank faces.
Sean looked at his colleagues, smiling broadly at him. They greeted him, asked how his weekend was, and he stuttered some answer back. But he didn't recognise any of them.
Feeling the panic clawing at him, he ran to his office and desperately started Googling for local psychiatrists. He was still googling when an email notification popped up from Kelly. His heart hammered painfully fast as he read the message.
**Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!**
Sean breathed out slowly, feeling a little bit calmer. Kelly would tell him what was going on. But when he got downstairs, trying not to look at the strangers surrounding him, she wasn't there. He glanced around at the gleaming lobby and felt like he was suffocating from the fear that ate at him. Had something happened to her?
But wait. How would he know she wasn't here somewhere? What if he couldn't remember her face?
"Kelly!" he called. "Kelly?"
Someone approached him, looking concerned. She had long dark hair and wore glasses. He couldn't place her at all.
"What's wrong Sean?" she asked.
"I'm looking for Kelly," he muttered, his stomach crawling at the fact that this person knew his name when he couldn't remember a thing about her.
"Kelly...doesn't work here anymore," she said, looking puzzled and shocked. "God, I thought you knew? You worked in the same division, didn't you?"
He stared at her, sour dread welling up in his throat. He was losing his mind.
"Excuse me," he managed to say, wanting to get away from her dreadful blank eyes.
----------------------
**The next day**
Sean lay huddled in his bed, the psychiatrist's words still echoing through his head. He probably had a lesion on his brain. Prosopagnosia, in all likelihood: face blindness. It would probably get worse. After all, he'd forgotten all about what happened to Kelly, and hallucinated her email.
Losing his mind. His mind, so sharp and integral to his sense of self. He was never the strongest, or the most popular. Never had much going for him, except his mind. He'd always had an excellent, razor-sharp memory. Absorbing facts as fast as people could throw them at him. But apparently, his perfect brain - the very thing that allowed him to breeze through school and college, that comforted him when he had nothing else to fall back on - was damaged. A lesion. Even the word made him itch with revulsion.
It couldn't be true. Couldn't be. There would be another explanation.
He blinked as he heard an email ping on his laptop, balanced on his knees. Kelly, again.
**Don't listen to them, Sean. I'm here for you. They've infiltrated the workplace. Sneaked into our town. The demons. The face stealers. The mind rapers. Don't listen. They said I died, but I did not. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but they managed to stop us meeting after they saw my email. But we'll see eachother again. Meet me tomorrow at the park, 9am. I'll be there. I'm here for you.**
He gave a shuddering sigh of relief and smiled. He'd see Kelly tomorrow. She wasn't dead, the woman he'd been in love with for ten years without saying anything. He wasn't losing his mind. She would be there tomorrow, and would explain.
He finally dropped off to sleep, his racing heart slowing down as he thought of their meeting tomorrow. Kelly would explain everything.
And they'd finally, finally be together. And face the demons, side by side.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | |
Whereas we can make educated guesses at the compositions of stars and the reactions between chemicals, all other intelligent species have no understanding of the cosmos beyond their limited senses and cannot use logic to predict outcomes. | [WP] Humans have begun colonizing solar systems and encounter other spacefaring alien civilizations, but they all developed their technology through trial and error over millennia. We are feared as gods who can predict the future with our scientific theories and adapt at terrifying speeds. | I have named them *Claymores* after my own surname. I know that must seem vainglorious, but I do not apologize. I do not imagine I will ever be presented with another opportunity to name a sentient alien race, and the name, I believe, is striking.
I found them while mineral diving in the Agathobulus Belt. My rear stabilizer was struck, forcing me to land or risk careening directly into an asteroid. I set down on the largest, flattest mass I could find. That is when I discovered the Claymores.
They live inside an asteroid. Except that it is not an asteroid, it is a ship. There are thrust engines at the narrowest end and pulse thrusters hidden within the crags at all angles. Somewhere at some past time, they must have hollowed the thing and made it spaceworthy. It measures less than a kilometer from tip to tip. Judging by the design, I do not suppose it was ever meant to travel at great speeds.
That said, I do not believe the Claymores are aware that they are on a ship.
They are small creatures, which is sensible, given the lack of available space within the asteroid. They display two identical trios of thin appendages set at opposite ends of a short torso. In the middle of the torso is a spherical skull that seems to permit 360 degree movement. I have seen no evidence of either eyes or mouths, but I believe this sphere is the equivalent of the head.
One presumes there is some measure of sensitivity upon the surface of the asteroid, because I certainly did not find the entrance of my own accord. Instead, two emissaries - for lack of a better word - arrived via a shallow air duct, hidden behind a sliding panel of rock. They beckoned me follow, which I did.
The ecosystem of the place is difficult to describe. There is no light within the asteroid, except for a small amount of bio-luminescence, generated by a sort of slime culture which grows on nearly every surface. The slime seems quite central to the lifecycle within the asteroid, as there is really only the Claymores and the slime, suggesting an exceptionally closed system. Is such a one-to-one system even possible? I assume there is something I am missing.
The Claymores seem to communicate internally by vibration. They make no audible sounds, but I have seen their appendages shake suddenly and in clear patterns. This is usually followed by some action on the part of other Claymores, leading me to believe that messages are being disseminated.
My speech, it should be noted, has an effect upon the Claymores - it causes them to scuttle away into dark corners and pull into compact spiral shapes. I have guessed that the vibrations of my voice are unpleasant or overwhelming and have discontinued speaking in their presence.
The slime is not palatable to me or, I suspect, any human. Because of this, I knew I would need to repair my ship and leave the asteroid, at least momentarily. The trouble, as mentioned, was the damage sustained to my rear stabilizer. I am not a mechanic, but I felt I might be able to jury-rig a temporary solution that would allow me to escape the belt and send a proper distress signal.
Examining my ship closely, I felt I may confidently make the necessary repairs if I could find a sufficient replacement for the cracked shielding and broken bypass valve. I asked the Claymores, in a fumbling, roundabout way, if they had anything within their ship resembling the needed parts. I was shocked to see their eager response. They brought me many pieces - most bore no resemblance at all to my request, but a few did. I did not consider at the time where the parts had come from. The Claymores surprised me constantly, so I had become a little dull to the unexpected.
The repairs so made, I bid a fond farewell to the strange creatures, making a promise that I would return. I do not know if they understood this promise. I am loathed to admit that ultimately, I have understood very little of the Claymores.
The flight out of Agathobulus was heart-stopping and treacherous, but I did successfully arrive at open space and, unwilling to make a full jump with a makeshift stabilizer, sent out a distress for assistance. I was picked up and returned to Gogi Base, where I made inquiry with the Federated Science Corps. I had managed to bring back a small sample of the slime with me to corroborate my story, which successfully captured their attention. Only two days later, I led the Corps back to the Agathobulus Belt and the estimated coordinates of the Claymore ship.
I expected to be welcomed back, but no emissaries ever arrived. After much searching with sensitive machines, we were able to locate the airlock and force it open.
The inside of the asteroid was black and frozen. With bright white lights, we search the interior, boots crunching over frozen, colorless slime deposits. The bodies of the Claymores were also frozen, held together in those tight spiral patterns.
The FSC engineer found hollowed gouges throughout the ship's frame and engine conduit. Essential systems ruined and offline.
"They tore it apart," he said, holding up a triangular slip of metal. "At a guess, they destroyed the life support system."
"Why would they do that?" said the mission lead.
They looked at me to answer the question. And of course I knew the answer. Of course I had sat there like a fat, guileless God, as the small folk brought forth their most precious offerings. Hoping to please. Hoping to appease.
"I've no idea," I mumbled as a floating Claymore brushed past my face. "It is the strangest thing." | "Sir, a human has arrived."
Not the most pleasant words for a chieftain to wake up to. It was six tera-ticks past sunrise and far too early to conduct any sort of business. Especially with humans.
Eyes still half shut, I rolled out of bed and emerged into the morning atmosphere. Placing my chief's helmet - ornate and feathered - over my long, gray cranium, I felt properly authoritative. When I entered the main plaza, a tall creature with gleaming chrome headgear was standing at the North Crater, arm outstretched. I was unsure of the meaning of this gesture and merely stared at him.
He clicked a few buttons on his outfit and finally stated "Greetings, friend" in perfect Gavorkian dialect. "I come with urgent news," he continued. "Your planet is dying."
I rubbed my eyes. "A conspiracy theorist, eh? We've got enough of those on our own planet, thank you very much. What is it you need? Iron ore? Herbs? Fertile soil?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "I think you need our help more than I need yours."
"And why is that?" I tried to maintain a dignified air, but a hint of terror snuck between the words.
"You don't even know, do you?"
I gulped and wiped some sweat from my brow. He approached me and tried to put a hand on my shoulder, but I instinctively flinched away.
"The core of Gavorkia is on track for a complete collapse within the next several weeks...or, as you'd put it, tera-temps. If you allow us to simply set up camp for a single tera-temp, we may be able to reverse the disaster."
I sighed. "I think we can handle it ourselves."
"I think you can't. Look around you, Chief Grauk. Sticks, stones, no processed foods whatsoever, medicines that have no definitive track record. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Just one tera-temp."
I paused for a moment, looked around at the village I'd spent my entire life in, and felt a deep, horrifying sense of inferiority. "OK," I said. "One tera-temp."
***
His name was Sanders, and he quickly became a figure of local fascination. His crew was small - about fifteen - but they got to work almost immediately.
My citizens gathered in the Plaza every evening to see what new miracle the humans brought with them. "This," Sanders explained, "is aspirin. Developed hundreds of years ago and it still doesn't get any better than the original. One pill and your pain evaporates."
I wandered nervously between each of their project sites, trying to figure out what they were building. Everything was foreign. Strange combinations of pieces and parts, foul-smelling food, an incomprehensible language. The main construction appeared to be lodged directly at the core of Gavorkia - a massive pole extending deep below the surface.
At the end of the tera-temp, I marched into Sanders' living quarters and slammed my fists on the table.
"Time's up, Sanders. Pack your bags."
Sanders raised an eyebrow. "I was just about to give you the status report, Chief. We've uncovered a host of additional problems with Gavorkia's ecosystem and may need an additional tera-temp to address them properly."
"No. We had a deal. We'll finish up ourselves."
"I'd strongly advise against that. Your choice - saving the planet, or watching it slowly fall to pieces."
I clenched my fist. "One more."
***
They stayed for three tera-temps after that, each one more grueling than the last. I watched as my people flocked to Sanders and his crew, fascinated by their technology, in awe of their humility, practically kneeling before them.
One night, at the end of the fourth tera-temp, I crept into his quarters and silently rummaged around, my long, spindly fingers tracing maps and blueprints, trying to make sense of it all.
When I knocked over a glass, he jolted awake.
"It's not polite to intrude."
I glared at him. "You're one to talk."
"Just give us a little more time."
I sprinted over to his bed and grabbed him by the throat. "If you're not out of here by tomorrow morning, your entire crew is dead."
He laughed a full, deep laugh. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"
"No, just those who've overstayed their welcome."
"How do you think your people are going to feel now that they've gotten a taste of what real progress looks like?"
"They'll be fine. We live a simple life."
"Well, you enjoy that." He rolled out of bed and began to gather supplies, refusing to look at me. Then, he turned his head slightly, half illuminated by his lantern.
"The cosmos is a harsh and unforgiving place, Chief Grauk. Sometimes you just need a place to settle down instead of wandering through all that...endless dark out there."
He left his tent and I never saw him again.
***
After another tera-temp of sleepless nights, intensive research, and enraged complaints from citizens, I discovered that the humans had been draining our core.
Figuring out how to read the monitors took the collective brain power of our village's best minds. The core's rich sphere of magma had been depleted by 85%, and Gavorkia's cracks were already beginning to show. Now we had no choice but to leave - to wander outer space, just as Sanders and his crew had and would continue to do.
Perhaps the rich magma deep within Gavorkia contained some minerals that they wanted. Perhaps they were indeed looking for a place to settle in for a while, before deciding to tear away the lifeblood of our planet. Perhaps they'd come to do this all along.
But I think there was a part of them that enjoyed the conquest -- the knowledge that a civilization, at least for a time, had become completely reliant on you.
And as we began to craft spaceships -- from our crude materials and the things the humans had left behind -- I felt the same quiet desperation.
Now, none of us were in control.
***
/r/GigaWrites
|
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